


Redefinition

by EV_TAsprer



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Demacia (League of Legends), F/M, Noxus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Insert, The Black Rose (League of Legends)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 106,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26678221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EV_TAsprer/pseuds/EV_TAsprer
Summary: As the Demacian Mage Rebellion begins, a group of Noxians is sent to further the empire's agenda. Led by the mysterious "Left Hand of Noxus" - a man who was once Demacian - the group aims to bring down the current regime. But, as the civil war breaks and the group's ideals are tested, only one thing is certain: even with his background, the Left Hand knows far more than he should...[SI-OC Fic]
Comments: 11
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

_It was a day like any other. The sun peered past clouds with golden rays, and lectures echoed off of petricite walls, filling the garden. A cool morning mist from nightly rains cooled his skin as he sat._

_He leaned against his seat, fighting back a yawn. Usually, he'd be sparring with his friends, or learning the trade of war from more competent soldiers. With a broken arm, however, all he could do is sit and learn. It was fine by him, as he enjoyed testing his mind and playing games of wit. Alas, the other students had returned to their classes, leaving him alone in the garden. If only he hadn't finished his textbook early, or brought along the advanced textbook for his own amusement…_

_He sighed and took in the atmosphere. A spot of green in a largely urbanized, white environment, the garden held an energy unique to it when compared with the rest of the city. An old oak tree which had its roots fashioned into makeshift benches by the school's noble founders, it evoked a natural grace. Yet, the arches of white stone and carved fences – combined with a view of Memorial Road beyond the balcony – linked it with the rest of the city. If not for context, he'd have found the silence almost magical._

_He heard footsteps echo down the hall._

_There was no doubt in his mind that classes were still in session. He was only exempted from his current lesson only because his injury barred him from participating. And, of course, he was ahead of the curve academically… Regardless, the problem remained. He stood up to investigate._

_The source of the steps came and went swiftly. A flash of hair like sunlight and a choked sob passed by the door before he reached it._

_"… before the light… A shadow fades before…"_

_By the time he reached the archway to the halls, it was too late. A lock of gold hair was the only trace of the one who had passed it. He sighed._

_It was a day like any other._

_And that made it worse._

* * *

Despite how polished and pristine the walls of the surrounding district were, the air within stank with blood and sweat. The ground was a grimy cake; layers upon layers of mud and animal fluids. Filthy peasants - far from the shining armor of the Dauntless Vanguard he had heard so much about - filled the packed square.

Gerris chuckled, "The glorious kingdom of Demacia."

The Noxian gave a final sneer to the world outside his carriage before closing the window. Breathing in fresher air, he looked to his commanding officer. Gerris was met with the slightest of glares, to which he laughed boldly. If his boss was concerned that little comment might blow their cover, Gerris figured he was being paranoid. As a massive, muscled man with a scarred eye and lip, Gerris painted an intimidating picture; no one would be looking to cause trouble with him. As for Gerris' comment itself, well that wasn't a problem either. It wasn't as though either of them actually minded insults to Demacia's "honor".

At the very least, he didn't.

"For all the praises you sing of your old homeland, I'd expect a better first impression," he stated.

"The walls were the first impression," his boss replied, "But they're fancy dressing for the shit within. And I don't just mean the grounds outside."

"Yeah, yeah, the corrupt noble classes and the lowlives too dumb to try overthrow them," the third member of their party droned from behind them with barely concealed irritation, "Same shit, different kingdom. Also, no magic, so that sucks…"

Gerris chuckled more as his boss raised an eyebrow.

"Any particular reason you're so cranky, Yin?" he asked.

Yin, the resident dedicated mage of their group, scowled, "Well, I dunno, might have something to do with forced sobriety? Maybe you try going weeks without your vice."

Yin may have been born into the Noxian Aristocracy - and her natural silver hair reflected it - but her attitude was anything but. As hungry for success as the commoners below her, as brash as the legionnaires he served with... If not for her natural talent for hemomancy, Gerris doubted she'd have developed ties to the two secret societies that had ruled Noxus' political sphere for centuries.

Of course, Yin didn't look like a Noxian aristocrat now. Their mission called for removing all traces of Noxus in lieu for an Arbormark merchant's wardrobe. The day they departed, Yin left two beloved aspects of herself behind; her silver hair dyed a dark black, and her hemomancy.

And Gerris didn't mind making it worse, "Legionnaires often march for weeks at a time, so; been there, done that. As for Mr. Hand, I doubt the Grand General would let him have one of those. But even then, he ain't the type for that."

He put a pensive hand to his chin, then clicked his tongue, "Same can't be said for you, though."

Yin shrunk more into her corner of the carriage, grumbling curses under her breath.

"Or you, Gerris," the fourth member of their party noted, "But, unless Demacia also has Fleshing pits, I doubt your addictions will be quenched here."

Erret, the saboteur of the group, gave a dirty look to Gerris. Often silent, Erret would rarely trade insults with someone. He was fiercely loyal toward his friends, though; he was especially bold when Yin was involved. Gerris shared a knowing look with his boss; they both knew what the pair had yet to confess.

"Not without losing a hand," Gerris conceded, "Or an ear, gods, what a nagging I'd get! But, I think I'll find you mistaken soon enough."

"That's enough, you two," their leader cut in, voice tense. He peered outside another window in their carriage, pensive and silent. After a brief pause, he shut the window.

"Mageseekers outside," he explained, "Of course, they can't actually frisk this vehicle without ruining trade with the Arbormark, but…"

"Don't use a magic art largely associated with Noxus, right," Yin answered, immediately sobering up.

"Or mention anything having to do with Noxus. At least until we meet our insider."

"Wolf take me," Yin cursed, "How long until then?"

"The General said our insider would meet us here at Graygate. But, worst case scenario? Around a week till Meltridge."

Yin groaned, prompting Erret to move to her side for comfort. Gerris' grin faded; he teased Yin often, but if she was struggling now, another week just might break her. Or his own temper, but who was to say?

Their leader would say, as it turns out. Or act, rather: he took an eerie red vial from his coat. It was a unique sample of blood; some mage or exotic beast had surely given its life for it.

"This is yours if we have to ride alone," he stated, "You'll have to ration it, and if we get caught by a seeker I'll kill you myself."

He paused, "And If we do meet the insider today, you can have it before lights out."

Yin's eyes shown with envy, but she nodded resolutely. The message clear, their boss put the vial back in his coat. A calming smile was on his face; a warm, caring demeanour that betrayed the rumours surrounding him.

It was common knowledge in Noxus that the Grand General was the authority in the land. The armies were loyal to him, the nobles feared him, and everyone else looked Jericho Swain's nationalism with pride. His rival in the Trifarix Council, the faceless representative of Guile, had, for the past months, been largely silent. Swain's supposed equal, Darius, was in truth, his Right Hand.

And recently, rumours spoke of a Left Hand. A dagger clad assassin in the night, who struck down the mistress of Guile; a blood-soaked hand, consorting with the underbelly of Noxus; a demon, unleashed by the Grand General. Some had vague ideas of his identity; a skilled assassin had to be of decent ranking and notoriety in the army, after all. A few even stumbled on the right track, suspecting the mysterious mage who defeated the Glorious Executioner in an upset victory in the Pits. But the full picture? Gerris doubted anyone could truly say.

And what did it matter anyway? Perhaps there was truth to the rumours, Gerris thought, but he knew that deep down, Xander, the Left Hand of Noxus, was a big softie. Came with his Demacian heritage, Gerris supposed, but Xander's nature made him a specialist for more delicate cases. The scalpel to the Right Hand's massive axe; the velvet glove to Darius' iron fist. Of course, that wasn't to say the hands couldn't emulate their counterparts, though. He'd served both long enough to know that for certain.

There was a brief pause, then Yin spoke up.

"I know it's an honor to work with you and all…" Yin started.

Xander sat down, attentive, "But?"

"Boss, you said our job here is to subtly manipulate Demacian culture," the hemomancer recalled, "I get bringing Erret, but a reckoner-turned-legion-vanguard and a blood mage?"

"In regular circumstances, and with the average member of your groups, I'd agree," Xander admitted, "But firstly, we have an opportunity to make quick, substantial changes."

"You mean the mage rebellion," Erret noted, his tone turning confused, "I thought it was put down."

"Not quite," Xander replied, "After the initial strike at the capital the rebellion's leader went into hiding. Activity died down afterwards, and the Mageseekers started their campaign to purge the population of mages."

"And they say we're the monsters," Yin growled.

Xander continued, "The rebellion started gaining public opinion, though. Rural farmers don't mind mages, especially when they help. Whilst they have no political power, being such a major part of the population does give some sway…"

"They didn't take kindly to it," Erret assumed.

"No, they didn't. Now, the only thing that would be worse is if rumors spread about noble-born mages getting off of the mageseeker treatment. Guess what the rebellion started announcing?"

"So the mages have spurred up the commoners to aid in their fight against a seemingly common enemy," Yin summarized, "Or rather, that's what they want to do. Based on what I see outside, it doesn't seem like this is a country on the brink of civil war."

"Well, we just passed by a mageseeker patrol. Before Swain's coup, would anyone have declared their hatred of Boram Darkwill in front of a legionnaire?" Xavier chuckled, "Those against the nobility are scared but hopeful, and those with them are paranoid."

"So we swoop in, raise tensions, and start a civil war," Gerris concluded, "Leaving Demacia defenseless against the Legion."

The Left Hand grimaced, "That… is a possible route, yes. But, I'd rather we avoid it."

Gerris raised an eyebrow.

"You're... not going against any orders, are you?"

Xander scoffed, "I'm not turning traitor, Gerris. I just prefer the least bloody option. And for the record, the General agrees."

"Oh, now THAT is bullshit."

"I'm not lying," Xander swore. He paused before his explanation, "The death toll to conquer Demacia would be too costly, even if we started a war now, and focused all of the Legion's strength. That doesn't include costs to repair infrastructure and put down the numerous rebellions that would follow. Demacia isn't just another lowly kingdom; it's our main rival in the world today."

"So, what are our options?" Yin asked.

"Swain recommended a coup," Xander started.

"But you don't agree with it."

"No. I suspect we'd have similar problems there; nationalist rebels rallying against overtly Noxian rulers," Xander sighed, "My preference is simply buttering up to whoever wins, enough to the point that they agree to sign a peace treaty with Noxus, maybe even an alliance."

"That's..."

"Extremely unrealistic?"

Yin shrugged, and her would-be lover spoke on her behalf, "It is unlikely, but as you've pointed out we have the perfect storm to make it happen. Either way, the first step would be to integrate ourselves into the two factions."

"And the Grand General's contacts have a way to get us there, I'm guessing," Gerris assumed.

Xander opened his mouth to reply but quickly shut it. Eyes narrowed, he looked to the window. When Xander poked his head through it, Gerris stepped forward and tried to peer past the Left Hand. He paled when he saw what was pass the window.

Clad in shining runesteel armour, a member of the Dauntless Vanguard sat atop a massive horse peered in.

"Is this the carriage of Imuren Sha?" he asked.

Prompted by his cover name, Xander responded, "Indeed it is, good sir. What can I do for you?"

"I received a raven from the Head Mageseeker; I am here to pick up the packages you carry."

"The packages are only for the raven's master to see," Xander said, "May you guide us to her?"

The Vanguard smirked, and Gerris understood.

"Follow me, then," the Vanguard ordered their coachman. He then turned his gaze to Xander, "We will talk later."

The Left Hand nodded with a smirk, then returned to the carriage within.

"Well, Yin, today is your lucky day," he declared, "You'll be getting your blood soon."

As Yin all but contained her joy, Gerris changed the subject, "Xander, you said the civil war was the first reason you brought us. What was the second?"

Xander paused, seemingly confused at the question. He then appeared to remember, and looked at him with a curious grin.

"For better or for worse, I trust you guys," Xander said.

The glint in the Left Hand's eyes told Gerris otherwise.

* * *

They arrived at their new post at sunset.

To Yin's surprise, their new home-away-from-home wasn't a shoddy sight. By contrast, it was an old mansion. Its walls were worn with age, and it was modestly sized; fit for a fortunate merchant rather than a low-ranking noble. To an untrained eye, it would simply be so. Yin saw the orchard of black roses in front of the mansion and knew otherwise.

"I was aware that the Black Rose had connections, but..." she started.

"They 've existed since before the Empire started," Xander pointed out, "I'm not entirely surprised."

Gerris stepped off the carriage with a thud behind them, followed by gentler footsteps from Erret. To the saboteur and his alleged lover's irritation, the ex-reckoner wouldn't keep his mouth shut.

"You were in the cabal before the rest of us," Gerris noted, "Shouldn't you be more in the know?"

"As compared to who?" Yin asked back, "Xander used to live here and answers directly to all of my superiors. Erret has done jobs for the Grand General himself, and... you. Did you know about the cabal that infiltrated our nation's rival, or did they not teach that in the Reckoning Pits?"

Gerris conceded with a shrug.

A gruff, echoed voice cleared its throat. The Vanguard who led them trotted his white stallion in front of them before disappearing in a grey mist. An older woman - in her forties, if Yin had to guess - stood in her place.

"The Matron said you'd be coming, Left Hand," she said coolly, "She didn't mention your escorts."

"Truly?" Xander held his chin in a pensive pose, "Well, more info for me, then... Regardless, my team is here to aid me in my endeavors. Their skill sets should allow us to... scour more ground."

The Black Rose member nodded, "Then allow me to introduce myself. I am Elia de Recht, and I welcome you to House Sharpstem."

The tour started promptly. Elia explained that the mansion was a few days' ride from Meltridge, but with favorable wind by the nearby river the ride was far shorter. Said river, Elia explained, allowed the mansion's old owner, a long dead merchant named Roman Sharpstem, to make a quick fortune trading. The man's descendants married into minor noble houses, eventually leading the lands of House Sharpstem to belong to a branch of the Laurents. The house's caretakers never forgot their origins, however; a flower bloomed from a seed left by the Mistress of the Immortal Bastion.

Night was in earnest when they finished their dinner. Xander has gone to speak with their host, whilst the rest of them retired to the guest quarters of the mansion. Their hosts had moved their baggage to their room and made it presentable. With two beds on opposite walls and a fireplace at the center of the room, it was far more cozy than the usual Legionnaire posting. It was to the point that Yin couldn't feel the charms on the door frame. It seemed that whatever Xander had done to bring the factions of Noxus to peace was a stopgap at best. She knew that already, of course, but...

"Alright team, listen up," Xander cut in. The team in question stopped what they were doing - unpacking various items from their luggage's - and gathered around their leader. He stood at the doorframe, baggage in hand.

"I've spoken with our host; we have our postings," he announced, "Gerris, Erret, you will be making acquaintances with the local workforce. Offer services and aid, listen for gossip, the works."

"And avoid causing a commotion, so as to not alert Demacian law enforcement?" Erret asked, gaze flickering to Gerris.

"A scuffle between peasants won't cause the Dauntless Vanguard to come in for our heads," Xander chuckled, "Of course, don't be an idiot, but if you think you could get some info from rough play, go for it."

Gerris laughed darkly, "I'll be in my best behavior."

"What about us?" Yin asked.

Xander's face and voice morphed into a mockery of aristocracy, "As esteemed members of Noxian nobility, we have the honor to escort the Lady Elia..." he switched to a dry deadpan, "and learn how to manage trade. And negotiate business contracts. And all the paper work that entails."

"Alongside people who are so paranoid they have listening runes at the doorknob," Yin matched her boss' deadpan tone, "Yay."

Gerris' eyes widened, "They're spying on us?!"

"Well, yes - they're Black Rose - but no, not anymore," Xander answered, "I noticed the runes earlier when I was directing the servants to carry our bags up. I set up my own runes, so we at least have this room for privacy."

Yin's eyes widened this time, and she raised her gaze to the right. Sure enough, on a lose brick on the fireplace was a rune. It was faint, and she doubted the others could sense it, but it was there.

"We'll be staying around the mansion in this way for the next few days," Xander continued, "Next week, we move to Meltridge."

"Sounds simple enough," Erret answered, "What's the catch?"

"According to Lady Elia, Meltridge has become an unofficial hub of activity for the mages. The people there are sympathetic to the cause. Normally, it wouldn't be too hard to find those sympathizers, and through them, the rebels," Xander noted, "The catch is that the next week will be all the time we have for this. Week after, we're headed to the Great City."

"The Capital?" Gerris asked, incredulous, "Why?"

"Trade contracts to be renewed, or something. I don't believe it's another Black Rose spy," Xander replied, "Regardless, we have a few days, maybe a couple of weeks, in the heart of Demacia."

"... No picking fights there, then?"

"Not in open daylight, no. But I have a few... contacts there," Xander smiled, but without his usual mirth, "If I need your muscle I'll tell you."

"Old friends, eh?" the ex-reckoner guessed, "You think they'd turn coat?"

"Not likely," Xander said, "But they're all higher-ups. Stalking them probably gives me info, scaring them could cause misplays in the aristocracy's part..."

"But no assassinations?"

"No. Allegiances or not, I won't kill them without provocation."

Gerris crossed his arms and shook his head, but said nothing. A glint in Xander's eyes betrayed a reaction; disgust, Yin thought. It was probably paranoia to expect something, but Yin wouldn't let it come to blows regardless.

"So, we have a bit more than a week to find the mage rebellion, then have to survive at the heart of Demacia for potentially longer than that," she summarized, not at all subtle in her subject cry change. She cleared her throat, "Is there anything else?"

"I'll be walking out, taking in the lay of the land and such," Xander replied, "We wake at sunrise tomorrow, so if you want you can retire for the night."

"I'll come with," Erret cut in.

After a short pause, Xander nodded. After leaving his luggage by his bed, took the blood vial from his coat and flicked it at Yin. He and Erret then left the room. With just herself and Gerris remaining, Yin slowly reclined on her bed before breaking the silence.

"Any particular reason you're so cranky, Gerris?" she asked.

The ex-reckoner snorted before replying, "I would've thought serving under the Grand General would've made Xander less... less..."

"Naive?"

"Demacian," Gerris' voice was bitter, "I want to believe he's not turning traitor but-"

"He isn't," Yin cut off, "He may hold Demacian ideals loosely, but Xander is a Noxian. As you say, he's working for Jericho Swain! He isn't on their side. "

"Not yet," Gerris sighed, "He was never indecisive in Noxus. He knew who the enemy was - no offense, Black Rose and all-"

"None taken."

"- and he executed his task swiftly. If he spared someone, he was told to directly to do so. Even when he was given vague instructions he didn't try and bend the rules. He only ever talked about Demacian ideals then, but here, he's acting on it. Too much so, I think."

"The Grand General gave him the go-ahead."

Gerris was silent, then continued as if the point hadn't been made.

"There's only one thing that's changed between them and now. He's back home now, and..." the muscled man sighed again, "Maybe I'm being paranoid. I hope you're right about him."

The ex-reckoned stood up, took of his tunic, and dug into his baggage. After fishing out a towel, he stood up.

"I'll be having a shower," he announced, a grin returning to his face, "You can go ahead and... indulge yourself."

Yin grimaced at the implication, "Piss off, Gerris."

The legionnaire laughed and left, leaving Yin alone. She raised the vial above her, letting it and its contents glimmer with the embers of the fireplace. After a moment's consideration, she pocketed it. Perhaps the stress relief could've taken her mind off of Gerris' doubts, but at that moment she found sleep to be a better alternative. She lied down and closed her eyes.

Glowing white eyes met her in the dark.

* * *

"Yin and Gerris are spying on me, you know."

Erret tried to keep his shock off his face, but it was a futile attempt. Even if he hadn't been friends with Xander long enough for him to memorize his tells, Erret knew the Left Hand's magic would reveal his secrets by sunrise. Before he could cut in, however, Xander continued.

"Our hosts are as well, for more sinister purposes. LeBlanc distrusts me, and likely wouldn't mind trying to kill me to go back to the status quo; our hosts will act on her will."

"Gerris is working for Swain, and Yin for Vladimir," Erret guessed. He was rewarded with a nod and an explanation.

"Yin is only keeping tabs on my actions because Vladimir finds me interesting. He's not particularly committed to Noxus or the Black Rose, so his spying isn't too bad. Gerris though... he isn't subtle, but he and Swain are worrying about the same thing; whether I'll turncoat to the Demacians. A valid concern, but the threat of execution… that's just a little stressful, you know?

After a pause, Xander asked him directly, "Do you share their concerns?"

"Not exactly," Erret confessed, "I suspect Swain asked of Gerris the same of me. Demacia is at a turning point and Swain doesn't want you screwing it up for Noxus."

"...so what's the difference between you and them?"

"They think you'll betray Noxus for Demacia. I think your idealism could make Demacia worse than it already is; and not just for Noxus either."

Leaning over a balcony, Xander confessed, "That, is a very likely possibility."

Erret briefly considered the knife by his belt, but decided against it. He stood next to Xander, looking upon the view of the river the mansion provided.

"Do you remember when we met?" he finally asked.

"When I kicked your ass into the dirt on my first Reckoning," Xander recalled, "The crowd wanted you to win, but they were so impressed by me that they were all too willing to leave you for dead. Never mind that most of them probably lost bets on you."

"It was an underdog story, I suppose," Erret joked, before his tone turned solemn, "Most Noxian folk would've left me for dead in that pit. Survival of the Fittest, as you say. But now-"

"Now I'm the Left Hand of Noxus, and you're about to catch yourself a fancy heiress for a lover," Xander smirked, "If hemomancy is anything to go by Yin's probably quite kin-"

"She's third in line to inherit, and… We're not discussing that here."

Xander gave a short bark of laughter, "You're going to all but interrogate me, and I can't dig a little into your love life?"

Erret growled, "Are you sure your magic isn't foresight?"

Xander raised his left hand to his side in dramatic fashion, "One can read the future in battle lines-"

"Assuming one can read," Erret finished his friend's quotation of their boss. He sighed, "Sometimes I get these Demacians. You mages are too damn annoying."

"Now you're speaking my language," Xander smiled, "So, what's our reading of the lines?"

"You're an idealist. You could change things, like you changed whether I'd have lived that week," Erret deadpanned, "Or you're going to get us all killed for as stupid a reason as, well, saving some dumbass."

"Mmm, I've heard that somewhere before… Can't say I would do that, but…" the Left Hand's eyes gleamed, "I can change this world. I have changed this world; I can feel it."

"You're not wrong, but just because you have a perfect storm doesn't mean you'll be able to pull this off," Erret warned, "I don't think I could kill you if it came to it. Hell, I don't think any of us could, even if we had the chance. But don't be stupid here. Promise me you won't make me or the others have to try."

Xander didn't meet his gaze. His voice had a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "I want to change the world. Unify it. It would be ironic if in doing so I lost every friendship I had."

"I suppose that's all I'll get," Erret sighed, "I'll go talk to Gerris, try calm him down."

"Thanks."

And so, the Left Hand of Noxus was left there, on a balcony in a land of lost memories; a home not quite away from, yet within, home. Xander closed his eyes in pensive reflection, blinding himself from his friend's thoughts. If he hadn't delved into his own mind, he might've seen the tells of his friend pondering and being disturbed.

As he walked away, Erret sighed and pondered. He knew the Left Hand was something special. He had since the beginning; when he was in the dirt, and the crowd called for his death; when Gerris signed the two of them for the Grand Pit, where they would fight the Glorious Executioner himself; when they went on excursions in Shurima, then Valoran, and the Freljord; when they infiltrated the ranks of the Black Rose Cabal; even when the storms of blue rose and the Revenant threatened to return. The fact that they hadn't died a hundred times over proved one thing; two, by Xander's logic. There was no doubt that the Left Hand was extremely lucky. He argued that he was also extremely competent, as he had to grasp the opportunities his luck granted him to survive. Erret found it a tad bit obnoxious, but seeing Xander fight, trade verbal barbs, and outsmart others... well, he couldn't flat out deny his friend there, could he?

But ultimately, his friend was human. He knew that, and he hoped Xander did. Perhaps Xander was special, perhaps he truly he was destined for greater things. But, he was as human and mortal and imperfect as the rest of them. He had his flaws, fears... and now that he thought of it, Erret knew that the Left Hand had a vice of his own. Some devolved into brutish savagery, others surrendered to sexual pleasures, yet others drowned in toxins and drugs. Xander's affliction was of the mind. Erret knew only one other with Xander's vice; the one that calls for willpower when none can be drawn; the one that consumes the mind and heart and soul. His friend had committed himself to an idea, and returning home, Erret suspected his friend's dream burned brighter in his heart.

Erret stopped his march, turning a head to a pillar of the mansion. Despite having Noxian owners, its architecture was mostly Demacian. Illuminated by torchlight, this influence was clearly displayed on the pillar. Before meeting the ceiling, the pillar's form shifted to mimic a bird; likely the native Silverwing Raptors he'd heard about. The feathered wings brought to mind a story Xander told him about. An old Demacian myth, dating to the Rune Wars, Xander said. He spoke of a man who made wings of feather and wax, and sought to fly. He flew into the sky, high, seeking greater heights. He chased the sun, but as he neared it his wax wings melted and he plummeted to the earth.

Erret sighed. He knew his friend was intelligent. He knew Xander's idealism had not only saved his life, but made Noxus better. From what he heard, the warband they briefly served in was rising up the ranks due to Xander's Demacian ideals. Instead of expecting strength and pruning weakness, their old warband employed and strengthened all they could. The weak grew strong, the strong became unified. Xander has carried his ideals with him into the secret societies of Noxus as well, though he admittedly he knew not how much effect they had. But, those ideals were a blazing sun. And despite everything, Erret feared Xander would melt down.

He walked away from the pillar hastily. He returned to the darker corridors; returning to their quarters; returning to the Noxian party; away from the light of the pillar; away from Demacia.

Erret lay under his bedsheets thereafter, lying but awake. After a quick chat with Gerris, the muscled legionnaire slept without care for their leader's absence. Erret, however, waited. In the dark, he focused, hoping for the sound of leather on wood. Until he heard footsteps at the door, he would not close his eyes.

He did not get much sleep that night, but it did eventually come.

* * *

_It was a beautiful day. The sun showered them all with its golden rays, and laughter echoed off of the petricite walls, filling the garden. A cool morning mist from nightly rains cooled his feet as he ran._

_"Where are you going?" a high-pitched voice called, "Wait up!"_

_He stopped in his tracks and turned around, waiting with a smile. With a huff, his friend arrived moments later. Her blue eyes darkened with irritation._

_"Can't keep up?" He teased._

_"It's not fair!" She answered, "You're bigger and older and more grown up, and I'm tired!"_

_"Sorry, did you want me to carry you?"_

_"No!" She snapped, "Only Garen can do that."_

_"He's out training with Jarvan," he noted, "Ugh, he's going to get one up on me."_

_"When's Garen going to be back?" she asked._

_"After lunch."_

_"Oh..."_

_He sighed, walking to the center of the garden. He leaned his good arm against the against the tree therein, cradling his mending one to his chest._

_"But anyway," he switched, "I wanted to show you something."_

_Her eyes brightened, "Really?"_

_He offered her his good hand, "Really._ "

_As she approached, he channelled energy to his hand. She gasped as a mirage formed over his palm. She peered at it, making out shapes in the cloud. She could see a woman holding a light. A woman with blond hair - no, a girl._

_"Oh. Oh!" her eyes flashed white with shock, "That's me! I did that, but-"_

_"Do you believe in magic, Lux?"_

_She frowned, "Mother said I couldn't..."_

_He put a hand on her shoulder, "You don't need to hide it."_

_"But… magic is an affliction, that's what mother said…" Lux listed, "And people would be upset… my family…"_

_"Magic isn't an affliction." he firmly said, "People are just afraid of it. But, we don't need to be chained by the past. A better future is coming; we just need to make it."_

"...That's not what happened."

_Lux looked him in the eyes, a glaring beam of light piercing his soul._

"You never said those words."

"I wanted to…"

"You didn't."

_Lux's golden hair and sky-blue eyes faded, darkened. The scene around him did as well. Ink fell like rain and smoke filled the garden, covering the grass. The mist rose higher and higher, but it never reached him, for he grew to match it._

But he admitted to himself the truth, "No, that's not what happened."

The whine of a blade being sharpened echoed behind him.

"An execution never happened either, Nocturne," he continued, a small smile on his face, "And even if it was, I'm more prepared than the child you first met. How have you been, you... demon you..."

A sound like sandpaper shifting repeated behind him as the dream entity laughed, "That your simplest regrets are more nourishing than the deepest of their terrors is... interesting."

"Can't compete with mages, I'm afraid," he replied, "Did you… investigate the people I asked you to?"

"Your friends have delectable traumas. And passions. And secrets. Raum has good tastes," Nocturne said, "I may heal from the light mage's burns sooner."

"You fought Luxanna?" The slightest twinge of concern entered his voice.

"I fought her ancestor once. A shard of my spirit remained in his crypt. She purged it as I was on my way to pick it up."

"Oh. So that happened. How long ago was this?"

"Three weeks after the incident at the city," Nocturne chittered mischievously again, "That was a day of emotions as well. I gained much... essence."

He nodded. Nocturne, once little more than a desiccated corpse in shape, had gained musculature. Its head seemed more defined; a harder cheekbone, sculpted and emotive eyebrows... and its eyes flowed brighter, yet not just white. Flecks of other colors flickered in the orbs, fading into mist.

Ever since he learned what demons were in this world, he suspected they weren't evil beasts; at least, it wasn't that simple. They were mirrors of spirit, and like the wolves within himself, all they needed was the right diet.

He and Swain suspected one other in the history of this world to know the same truth they came to. He expected to meet that man's final legacy in due time.

"So you have returned," Nocturne rasped, "What do you seek?"

" _That_ was not what happened then," he repeated, "But, it can happen now. I will need your help, but not soon. Take what you need of my mind, do not draw attention to yourself."

"Very well, _summoner."_

"I suppose I've been calling you around enough for that title to apply," he chuckled, "Now leave. I'd like this night for myself."

Nocturne laughed and faded, and so he was left alone again.

_The stars twinkled in the sky. There were more in the sky than he remembered in his last days, for which he was thankful._

_Despite the shine of the stars, however, he felt the earth below him. The dried cake of filth was not apparent, thanks to the nurtured grass that cushioned his back. He knew from experience, though, that brown stains would likely plague his tunic._

_That was fine. He planned to get rid of the set on his back anyway._

_He sat up from the dirt and surveyed the area. A normal forest that branched out to a petricite grove, he suspected it would be the last place for someone to find a mage like him. Of course, someone had found him en-route, but thankfully it was a friend of his dad; he lived another day, and even got some weapons and resources to further his travels. His travels had been safe since. His quick glance affirmed that remained._

_With a sigh he turned around, switching his view from the forest to the city he left behind. Castle towers reaching to the sky reflected yellow hues of light from the rising sun. The small houses surrounding the city, darker with dirt but illuminated by torch light, looked like embers to him._

_He smiled at the poetry. Demacia was the guiding beacon of the world's morality. A beacon of light to which all were attracted to. At least, in theory… now it was simply a burning fire, leaving behind smouldering victims. It could be hell: paved by good intentions, but ultimately a destructive force._

"But, I cannot deny its dream," he recited the thoughts he had held, "I will pursue it. I will restore this kingdom to its ideals, even if it's the last thing I do in this world."

Xander closed his eyes and woke to a dimly lit plank ceiling. Night had not yet ended, but the dawn would come soon. The final word of his dream - his vow - left his lips with conviction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, AO3. This is my first post on this site, as I've up till this point been working on Fanfiction.net. I'll be posting the rest of the already-posted chapters soon. Check my profile for links if you're interested, but from what I gather AO3 is supposed to be a superior platform, so its redundant. I look forward to posting more.
> 
> Now, a few things. Firstly, this is a SI-OC fic, but it's also heavily based in League of Legends lore. If you've read any or all of the stories in the lore - especially those surrounding Demacia and Noxus - it should improve your enjoyment. Even without reading them, though, I'll try my best to make the story good regardless.
> 
> This includes flashbacks to explain the backstory which I've skipped over. For the second point, this fic also basically constitutes AU tag as well. At this point in the fic's timeline, some of the Noxus plotlines have already gone ahead. I don't know whether Riot will be going a different way than I have, but for this fic I won't be making retroactive changes.
> 
> Finally, thanks for reading this far. More so than anything, please leave a comment with your thoughts so far. Any and all feedback is appreciated. Thanks!
> 
> Edit 29/09/2020: ayyyyy added some art to the chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

_Despite his predicament of being a prisoner, the Demacian wore a smile on his face._

_To say it unnerved Gerris would be an understatement. Presumably one of the Dauntless Vanguard, he had sacrificed himself to let the Prince escape. After being cornered by his platoon, he surrendered, and claimed he wished to join the Empire. Noxian doctrine encouraged commanders to accept these men, and he admitted there was merit to it. Many had fallen to his spear._

_Perhaps too many._

_Which was why he was here, with the Demacian in his tent._ _Alone, the Demacian sat. He had oily black hair that was greasy and long from the days without a cut. Based on his head movements, he wasn't used to it. His skin was an odd tan; far from the usual dark brown or pale cream that his countrymen bore. Perhaps he was of mixed blood, the captain thought. Analyzing the Demacian's body, the captain found easy comparisons to a dancer. By no means unfit, but not a strongman like himself. Less a brute, more a hunter, or scout._ _Or assassin..._

_"_ _So, you're the one who killed my men," Gerris started, a menacing tone in his voice, "The Demacian who betrayed his king and country for… what?"_

_The Demacian shook his head and chuckled, "They betrayed me long ago."_

_"_ _Oh?"_

_"_ _I recommend getting better cuffs…"_

_The Demacian raised his cuffed hands, palms facing upwards. They glowed, fingers shaking with power. Soon enough, a pale blue flame appeared in his hands. The Demacian was a mage._

_"…_ _Ah, a mage," Gerris noted, "I've heard the stories. How your people put your kind to the slaughter. Yet, to enter the Dauntless Vanguard…"_

_"_ _Oh, I'm no Dauntless," the Demacian laughed, "Perhaps in another life, but I was merely a good soldier in the Demacian military. Getting by, laying low…"_

_"_ _That display was hardly laying low," Gerris chided, "You killed many of my men. You saved the Prince. If you were successful you'd have been accepted into the Dauntless Vanguard, even as a mage."_

_"_ _And as a mage in the Vanguard I'd have to watch my kind get killed and say nothing. Serve the King, even as he allows those acts follow through," the Demacian grimaced, "I would rather die than do so."_

_Gerris raised an eyebrow, "Then why stay loyal for so long? You could've turncoat when the armies first engaged. You could've even offered your old Prince's head on a pyke to us. Yet instead, you defended him. Why?"_

_The Demacian gave a sad smile, "Let's just say I had personal reasons for that."_

_Gerris let silence fill the room. He glared at the Demacian for long seconds before speaking again. His voice was like gravel and rubble._

_"_ _I won't be letting you into my warband," he declared._

_The Demacian's face fell, then morphed in controlled rage, "I thought Noxus would accept anyone if they could prove themselves worthy."_

_"_ _You think you're worthy?"_

_"_ _I defeated your men, didn't I?"_

_"_ _That's why I'm not letting you into my warband," Gerris clarified, "How could I trust you, especially when you claim 'personal' allegiances to the Prince."_

_"_ _I-"_

_"_ _But, I never declared you would not be a Noxian."_

_He stood up and went to the back wall if his tent, where his personal weapon rack lay. He clutched two weapons: a halberd and sharpened shield. He would use them to find the worth of the Demacian. Turning wordlessly, he raised the halberd, aiming for the Demacian. His target's eyes widened as he threw the halberd._

_The halberd shattered the Demacian's cuffs._

_"_ _If you wish to be Noxian, you will prove yourself. You will do so as many prisoners of war have before you," Gerris declared, "You will fight in the Reckoning Pits."_

_The Demacian stood up, gripped the shaft of the halberd, then smirked, "A bit heavy, but this will do. You're going to train me?"_

_"_ _Do you doubt me?" Gerris laughed, "Hear me, boy! I am Gerris of Drekan, the Ironhead. You may have talent, but that's nothing before will. And I will for you to die!"_

_Gerris gripped the sharpened shield in his left hand and took his main weapon – an imposing one-handed axe – in his right. He pointed the weapon at the Demacian._

_"_ _Prove you can survive, and you can make it to the Pits. Prove yourself in the Pits, and you can become a Noxian. If not, then I will take joy in knowing the men you slew were avenged!"_

_"…_ _Xander."_

_"_ _Hmm?"_

_The Demacian smirked, "Call me Xander."_

_Gerris smiled cruelly, "You'll earn that name as well!"_

_Their fight commenced with sparks of steel._

* * *

Despite the culture shock, it only took them two days to integrate.

It wasn't like there was much to do, at least on his end. Move this there, move that there, rest, repeat. It was a lot like downtime in the Trifarian Legion, only worse. In the legion, you had to be on your toes in case of an ambush, or rapid deployment. This was just running down the clock.

Muscles aching in all the right ways, Gerris stretched. Sweat glistened on his body, highlighting his muscles in the sunlight. He closed his eyes, sighing as he basked in his own satisfaction.

"Sorry to say, no one is ogling you, Gerris," a deadpan voice cut in.

Erret sat by him on a crate, drinking from a water skin. His torso – smaller and slimmer but no less defined - was also bare. It was only convenient; all the heavy lifting they were doing was bound to build up sweat. There was no need to waste a tunic or a shirt on the work.

"You have to rain on my parade?" Gerris asked.

"I think, with how you've been with Yin, it's probably comeuppance," Erret replied cooly.

Gerris grinned, "Concerned for your lady-friend?"

"She's not-"

Gerris gave Erret a pointed look.

"…Ok, how did both of you figure it out?" Erret finally asked.

"When the quiet guy starts yapping, well, that gets people interested," Gerris explained, "To be honest, there could only be so many reasons for you."

Erret sighed, then stood up. "I didn't tell Xan about my love life, I won't be telling you."

Gerris' smile couldn't be more infuriating, "I didn't expect you to."

With a growl, Erret tossed Gerris his waterskin. The only ex-reckoner greedily partook of the drink before returning the skin. Erret grimaced when he took it back; it wasn't empty, but damn close to it.

"One more shift after lunch, right?"

"Mmm," Gerris replies, "Aren't you glad Xander saved your twig arms from work?"

"I may not be as big as you are, but I can handle another load of crates," Erret replied, "As long as I'm not cleaning horse shit from some noble woman's carriage, I'll be fine."

"I'd drink to that."

Erret raised the near empty waterskin to Gerris' gaze, "You can when we actually have some to spare."

Gerris shrugged and sat down. Backing into the shade to avoid the glaring sun, he sighed.

"You think Xander and Yin like their new job?"

"Couldn't say with Yin," Erret answered, "She always wanted to help in her family; apparently, the local economy interested her for a bit. I suspect some of the skills she learnt then would translate."

The saboteur finished off his waterskin with a long sip.

"Xander's fucked though," Erret finished.

Gerris chuckled, "I'd make a joke, but I get him... there, anyway."

Erret sighed, "You still doubt him?"

"... I don't think he's a traitor anymore... but..." Gerris' voice dropped low, "He's hiding something. He has been the entire time, and I... I don't know what he's thinking. As it turns out I never did, and..."

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Gerris repeated, out of words to explain his mood.

"I get it," Erret admitted, "When Xan and I were infiltrating the Black Rose I almost thought he'd betrayed the General. Then he'd tell me in secret that he was planning to expose LeBlanc, then… It worked out, but I suppose that feeling is still present."

"Then how are you able to trust him?" Gerris asked.

Before Erret could respond, a voice cut-in to their conversation, "Hey, newbies, get over'ere!"

Their boss for their new role, a broad-shouldered man named Erdrich, was temperamentally similar to Xander. A fusion of Demacian idealism and Noxian grit, he was a joy to work with; encouraging his employees to work harder, whilst working himself as well. Circumstances of birth were the only difference between the heavy lifter and the Left Hand; where Xander was born in Demacian aristocracy, Erdrich was born on the shores of the town near House Sharpstem.

And whilst Xander idealized Demacia (or at least, seemed to), Erdrich did the same for Noxus.

Erret and Gerris followed Erdrich, sitting by him. Erdrich had gathered other workers from the town to join him; the would-be workmates that both of the infiltrators had somewhat ignored over the past two days. The workers didn't seem to hold it against them, instead looking at them with wide eyes. Gerris smiled; it reminded him of the rookie reckoners he'd have to show the ropes to back at Noxus Prime.

"So you guys come from Noxus, right?" Erdrich asked.

"Well, don't go yelling it out from the rooftops," Gerris joked, "But yeah, that's right."

The next question was predictable, "What's it like there?"

Other workers chipped in their curiosities.

"Are the Reckoning Pits as dangerous as they say?"

"Are mages treated fairly there, or still hated?"

"Does Noxus really hate kings?"

"Do you have to join the army?"

"Is it true that people can get away with murder?"

The last question caught Erret off guard, prompting the saboteur to give a stuttering reply, "W-well, kinda? I mean, there are always consequences, and you can't kill people because then people will try kill you. And there's also secret societies who can kill people and get away with it because they have the power to get away with it... there's also accidents sometimes at the Reckoning Pits, but not as much-"

"Erret, let me do the talking," Gerris cut in.

The saboteur nodded, letting the ex-reckoner take charge.

"For those who didn't hear through that jumble of words: yes, you can kill people," Gerris explained, "But, that isn't to say Noxus' streets are bloodbaths. Loyal friends of your victim could kill you for your crime. Take that effect for every person, and... In a sense, it's like how things happen here, only less polish. There's no honor codes or justice to be had. You're free to do what you want, but not free of the consequences. So, have the sense to keep your head down or the strength to keep it up, and you'll be fine."

The worker who asked nodded, content with the answer he received.

"Moving on to the army, well, you don't _need_ to join," Gerris continued, "If you don't have the stomach for war, you can try another profession. It just so happens that the army's the best way to make a name for yourself. As for kings and mages, Noxus values all people according to their ability. If you're a mage using your powers to help Noxus, you're free to go. If you're born to some idiot with a fancy chair and you inherit their stupidity, you can piss off. And on that latter end, if you make the lives of those you quote unquote "rule"? Well, expect a visit from a legion soon. The shit going on with mages in this country wouldn't fly in Noxus."

Various noises of awe came from the hybrid Demacian-Noxian audience. Gerris crossed his arms, a content smile on his face. He turned his gaze to Erdrich.

"Let's try avoid the mess of questions you guys spat out earlier," Gerris said, "We'll answer questions one by one, and who knows? Maybe after this you'll be ready to be a true Noxian!"

Despite being a mix of young and old adults, the cheer of agreement that came from the workers seemed more appropriate for a group of kids. Gerris shook his head. Spreading it this way - like a prophet sharing the words of the Gods - was not what he had originally envisioned when Xander approached him with the mission to "Change Demacia." It was a ridiculous notion, but now?

Gerris chuckled. Damn Xander and whatever plans he held. He'd enjoy his time in this worthless kingdom regardless.

* * *

Xander, Yin noted, was not enjoying his time back in Demacia.

It was quite the role reversal between them, she thought. On his first day learning under Lady de Recht, he had been mildly curious, and, of course, dutiful. He absorbed every lesson like a sponge, whilst Yin felt like dirt by his side; soaking it up slowly but losing composure in the process. The Left Hand got to work that night, hoping to finish his assignments early.

Yin, on the other hand, retired early. Between the day's work and the previous night's nightmares, she finally opened up the vial of blood Xander gave. He didn't know what exactly was in the vial, but it didn't seem to matter to her. Based on Yin's reaction the vial was an exquisite specimen that nearly took from her the willpower to ration it. Nonetheless, the vial did its work. With a clearer mind, she got to work with bravado by sunrise.

As for the Left Hand... he would be best described as drowning in paperwork.

A description Lady Elia found amusing, given her shit-eating grin (or the noblewoman's restrained equivalent).

"Should I have you file your own death certificate?" she asked.

"Ffffuck offff..." Xander snarled with the viciousness of a newly hatched basilisk.

As the matron of Sharpstem walked away, Yin felt inclined make her own comment.

"I told you pulling an all-nighter was a bad idea," she teased, grinning.

"I've killed people with less sleep on my schedule," the Left Hand growled.

"So it's the paperwork," Yin assumed, "You can kill a whole warband, assassinate high-profile Black Rose members, and win the Fleshing against Draven, all without batting an eye. Yet, a single stack of papers and your brain melts."

"I'm fine doing paperwork, as long as it's actually interesting," Xander said, "Tell me about troop deployments. Tell me about arranged marriages or the renewal of pacts…"

"…These papers are telling you about those things?"

"Maybe yours are," Xander sighed, "I, for one, don't have the patience to learn about the fifty-third complaint on an exotic oil some jumped-up Laurent scion made."

"Maybe a few hours' extra sleep could've given you that patience?"

The Left Hand scowled, "Were it so easy…"

Scribbles filled the silence as Xander got to work.

"Damned demon…"

Yin did a double take before asking, "Wait, what was that?"

The scribbling stopped. Xander paused, and Yin could practically see the gears turn in his head. Her own mind raced as well, recalling blinding white eyes piercing her soul. Xander usually was good at managing his time; including sleeping. Of course, he had decided to work later, but he never explicitly called for an all-nighter. In hindsight, his behavior was irregular, nonsensical. If the same thing that happened to her on the first day happened to Xander, however...

Eventually, the Left Hand rested his forehead against the desk and sighed.

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Yeah."

"… Just ignore me."

"No, you just said demon," Yin's voice dropped with concern, "What's going on?"

"It's nothing."

"If you're being haunted by a demon, then I'd say it's something."

The Left Hand sat up and glared at Yin.

"Look, you're on a need-to-know basis and right now-" Xander stopped himself and sighed, "There's nothing to say. Apologies for snapping."

As Xander rested his head against the desk again, Yin bit her tongue to stop herself from blurting out a rushed response. Xander was on the defensive; she'd need to pick her words carefully...

"Xander, if this is related to the mission, I - no, we need to know," Yin urged, "You can trust us."

"Hmmm, can I though…"

Yin's breath hitched.

"…Could I trust someone whose intent I do not know…"

She widened her eyes.

"… Could I trust a…"

Xander stopped speaking, but the implication had already left his lips.

"… I said that out loud again."

Yin didn't dare say.

"Ok, so I did," Xander sat up again, sighing in aggravation, "I would've liked to keep that to myself for a bit longer, but…"

Yin paled further, "You know. You know I'm-"

"A spy?" the Left Hand gave a short bark of laughter, "I've known of your allegiances since before I asked you to join me… and for the record, I knew of the others'… tasks as well."

The glint in the Left Hand's eye prompted a stutter in the usually composed hemomancer, "H-how did you know?"

"You and your family were employed by Vladimir when I first met you. Nothing has changed that fact," Xander simply stated, "In the same way, Erret and Gerris were born commoners; they owe the lives they know to the Noxian Legion. It only makes sense that they would accept the Grand General's mission."

The Left Hand turned his gaze away from Yin, instead looking to the door through which Lady Elia had departed, "I'm rather insulted LeBlanc didn't send a spy of her own. But I suppose funding our whole operation here does enough."

Yin breathed slowly and shut her eyes, "What will you do now?"

Xander was silent for a moment before chuckling, "I've known this whole time, yet I've done nothing. Why would that change now?"

The disbelieving silence still held tension. Xander's tone dropped.

"I understand why you would spy on me. It's what expected of you. And, arrogant shit he may be, Vlad is a rather menacing guy," Xander spoke calmly, "You're all doing your duty, and your doubts are valid concerns. I can't judge you for that."

"… There's a catch," Yin glared at Xander like a cornered animal, "There has to be… what's your game?!"

"There is no game," Xander chuckled, "I'm not going to kill you, or Erret, or Gerris. We're friends. Friends don't kill each other. That's it."

"That's…"

"Naïve? Dare I say it, Demacian?" Xander's grin widened.

Yin grit her teeth, unable to say anything. She knew that Xander was hiding something. This explanation, whilst certainly viable – they were friends, after all – was not the whole truth. It was likely a veneer to hide Xander's true intent. But what was it?

"You think I care about you being Demacian?" she asked.

"I've returned to my homeland," The Left Hand noted, "I'm an asset to your boss – all of them, mind you. I've done my job well. But… I am Demacian. You don't care about the possibility – just the possibility - of someone like me turning coat to against your homeland's main rival?"

There was a short pause before Yin responded, "No."

"No? You don't?"

"My sister told me to watch you for Lord Vladimir," Yin admitted, "But, she never said I'd need to betray you. She never told me to kill you, or interfere in your plans."

The Left Hand scoffed, "If I walked up to the Prince of Demacia and declared fealty, offering my skills and knowledge of Noxian political and military affairs, you wouldn't do anything? At all?"

Yin grimaced, "I would have to do something… begrudgingly…"

"And ther-"

"Gerris and Erret would, after all."

Xander paused, "Oh? Erret would?"

"… bastard…"

Xander was now perplexed, "… sorry, what was that?"

"You're such a bastard, you know that!"

A truly out of character display ensued: the Left Hand backed away from the angered hemomancer. Yin, ever the bold one, went on the offensive on her boss.

"You're trying to guilt me into shutting up, yet you have the audacity – the audacity - to say you're my friend; you're our friend," Yin's emotions spurred magic as her pupils turned redder, "Do friends keep secrets from each other? Do friends threaten to betray each other to force them to.. to… ugh! How, why would you do those things?"

Xander looked away. The vengeful side to Yin's heart burned with satisfaction; at least the Left Hand had the decency to feel shame. Her anger was tempering, but she continued her assault.

"Well?" Yin glared at Xander, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"… secrets… Secrets are the trade of the court, don't you know that?!" The Left Hand's voice rose to crescendo; a drizzle turning to a storm. The lesser showers of words were punctuated by thunder, "I will admit this, Yin; returning to Demacia has always been my plan. Not to turncoat, but to make it a better place. But your bosses… they want me to fail. They don't believe I can do it, and believe the safest option would be to have me as. Their. Pet. But, I am more than their monster. I will do more than kill on their behalf… and I've come too far to let my mission fail because someone misinterpreted my intent or words or actions!"

Xander put a hand over his face and sighed. The storm faded. "Is that enough for you?" the question came out in a whisper.

"No, it isn't," Yin answered after a pause. There was a heat in her voice, like a forged sword cooling in oil, "… You said it yourself, you're our friend. Do you really think of us that badly?"

"No, I… I suppose I have disrespected you," Xander pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm sorry. I just couldn't risk it. Your bosses, heh… a single secret they know about you could… could…"

The Left Hand was silent for a moment, and Yin paused in pensive expectation. The predictions she thought of ended up being worthless, however. Another storm rose, but not a swirl of anger. Starting with giggles then rising to perhaps absurd guffaws, the Left Hand laughed like a man possessed.

"Those sons of bitches!" he forced out between laughs, "Damn bastards…"

The laughter subsided, "Heh heh, ah… I'll have to get them back for that."

Yin had assumed after her outburst she would have the Left Hand at her mercy. Now, the tables had turned yet again. Like poking a sleeping beast, she made to speak.

Xander spoke first, however, "Oh, I have wronged you guys. I… don't think a basic apology's going to cut it. Heh… oh those bastards…"

"Which bastards?" Yin cautiously asked.

"Oh, your bosses. They played me," Xander broke into chuckles, "Conniving shitheads, they are. Don't know how they plan on getting me back if their plan went through, but… they should know I hate that. Oh, they are getting it!"

Yin gulped. Perhaps it was the conversation's context, or maybe it was his tired red eyes, but she never before had the Left Hand looked so unhinged.

"I'll explain everything to you later," Xander finally declared, a somber tone filling his voice.

Yin blinked, "I'm sorry?"

"I'll confess. I'll say everything later," Xander repeated. His pensive mood held for a moment, before shifting to a chipper, nonchalant one.

"Oh, and as a teaser, I'll explain the demon thing. He's..." Xander paused and rested his chin on his hand, "Well, it would be insulting to call Nocturne my pet. I guess he's my servant? No… Bodyguard? Familiar? That sounds about right. But yeah, I have a demon familiar… enh, it doesn't sound as cool."

"I'm sorry, just…" Yin pinched the bridge of her own nose before looking to Xander with an irritated glare, "Correct me if I'm wrong here..."

"Go ahead."

"You know we've – or at least, I've – been instructed to spy on you."

"Yep."

"And we've been trying to be subtle about it…"

"Yep."

"But you know… and you're not going to in any way seek compensation."

"It would be a dick move."

"And, still knowing we're spying on you, you're going to reveal everything. To us."

"… Yes," Xander raised his pointer figure as he digressed, "And for the record, I won't be doing it here, so as to not get LeBla-"

"Excuse me?!" Yin exclaimed, probably bursting a vessel in her brain, "You're going to just do it? Like that!"

Xander blinked but maintained a smile on his face. "I've wronged you. There is no reason for me to keep my secrets. So, I'll share them. I don't think it'd be a big enough apology, but… well at least you'll know."

"And we're just supposed to accept it?"

"Well, it's up to you," Xander shrugged, "Some of the shit I've been through is quite unbelievable… but I'll say it anyway." Yin could only look to Xander with disbelief at the absurdity he'd thrown at her lap.

So Xander broke eye contact and went back to work, "Also, I don't want to repeat myself… so sorry, you'll have to wait for the meeting later."

As scribbles filled the room again, Yin could only gape, growl, and resume her own work as well. Her mind raced with a new rage. Indeed, the Left Hand was audacious. Or mad. Regardless, that apology was half-assed at best. Perhaps she would get information – for herself more than Lord Vladimir – by day's end, but…

_That explanation better be worth it._

* * *

When Yin asked to speak with him personally in the room after lunch, Erret thought watching Gerris inflate his ego all morning was worth it. When he saw barely contained anger in her eyes, however, that hope faded quickly. As he took his seat by the bedside, he realized only one thing between breakfast and lunch could've pissed her off so…

"Erret, I need to know…" the first words that left her lips were spoken with an odd desperation, "Did Xander tell you anything?"

Erret sighed, "So he confronted you."

"I confronted him," Yin replied, "What did he tell you?"

"That he knew about me and Gerris being spies, nothing else," Erret answered, "At least, nothing I already knew."

The fire in Yin's eyes flickered, teetering to the point of inferno; and Erret's breath hitched when it turned on him.

"What did you already know?" she asked.

"He's a Demacian at heart," Erret spoke slowly, cautiously, calmingly, "He always has been. You know him, always helping the rookies or naturally weaker people in the warband… finding a place for them to be effective in the group…"

"How is this relevant?"

"He's an idealist," Erret said, "He acts according to Demacian ideals – justice, fairness, the sort. I think he does it because living here he was robbed of those ideals; he knew that this kingdom, for all its talk, doesn't truly show it. He thought he could make it work in Noxus…"

"Is he an idealist, or a zealot?" Yin cut her lover's rant, "I'm not sure if he's made it clear to you, but I doubt Xander would hesitate to kill us if it meant his 'ideals' survived."

"I don't think an idealist Demacian would kill his friends."

Yin scowled, "Well, I don't think an idealist Demacian consorts with demons and threatens his friends and-"

"Wait, what was that about demons?"

Yin squinted, snorted, and spoke, "Xander said he had a nightmare-demon-thing as his servant. Or something. It was named Nocturne; he said that's how he knew we were spying on him."

"Hmm, like the Grand General… no wonder he knew about him."

"Wait, the Grand General has a demon?" Yin's anger was replaced by curiosity, if only briefly, "I thought he had a Piltoveran limb?"

"According to Xander he tamed a demon and made it his hand; to replace the one he lost in Ionia," Erret explained, "He went to Piltover as an alibi. But we're getting out of topic."

Yin raised a hand to make the point, but shut her mouth when Erret beat her to it, "Right, where were we?"

"Xander's sanity, I believe was the topic," Erret recalled, "And… I get your concerns, but Xander isn't insane. He's smart, extremely committed – to his ideals and his job – and he's a damn good fighter, but not crazy."

"Well, sure, but he's still consorting with demons," Yin pointed out, "Isn't that cause for concern?"

"The Grand General has a demon. LeBlanc is apparently an immortal, and Lord Vladimir eats people."

"They're all relatively insane."

"They didn't start out that way…"

"You can't be sure of that."

Erret pinched his chin in thought, "…was anything off about him when you spoke to him?"

"He was defensive about his actions at first, then aggressive when I pushed him," Yin reflected, "He did say he was sleep deprived, but even then, he's never that bad…"

After a pause, Yin got the implication, "You think he's being possessed?"

"Demons influence their hosts, regardless of how much control said hosts have over them," Xander noted, "Of course, it was difficult to learn that from Swain, given he's…"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right, you haven't met Swain," Erret sighed, "Well, I'd assume Xander's demon deals with paranoia or fear, or anger…"

"And he's acting that way because of the demon?"

After a pause, Erret groaned into his hands.

"No, demons only worsen pre-existing situations. They're reflections of humanity, feeding on our worse impulses," Erret explained, "But Xander would need to have those to begin with… You may be right…"

"So he's been like this from the start?"

"He's always been an idealist, as I said," Erret growled, "I hoped he'd play this smart. He's taking massive risks, never mind the demon… why is he…"

"He always planned to come back," Yin said, "He told me he always planned to return to Demacia."

Erret's breath hitched, "… he always planned to come back. He always… damn it!"

Yin put a hand over Erret's shoulder, "What is it?"

"I suspected as much, but now I know for certain…" Erret growled, "Xander… he came to Noxus because he knew he could better himself here. He wanted knowledge of how other lands dealt with Demacia's problems, and power to make those changes. He…"

Yin's expression morphed with shock, "He's been like this from the start?"

"No, he was more tempered. His mission here was a pipe dream; he would've settled for life in Noxus if it was his only option. But, now that he's here… he's closer to his dream than ever," Erret realized, "It must be getting to him… and that demon isn't doing him any favors. We'll need to confront him."

"Xander told me that he would share all his secrets with us by today," Yin said.

"That will do…" Erret sighed, and the pressure on Yin's arm deepened slightly.

Sensing her lover's plight, she pulled him into a hug. Erret reciprocated.

"I know you two aren't very close but-" he started.

"He's still my friend. And your best friend," Yin replied, "That's more than enough for me. We'll help him."

Erret was silent in thought before he whispered, "I hope we still can."

* * *

Much ran through the mind of the Left Hand as sunset fell.

Watching behind him, he made sure that his team – and only his team – followed closely. He felt - or perhaps it was more accurate to say suspected - various levels of doubt and anger behind him. He sighed under his breath; the game was getting to him and his team. And with what he had planned, the last thing he'd want to appear as would be a hypocrite…

_Scratch that, a dictator ruling by fear would be even worse. And no less possible._

After ten minutes of eternity, they arrived. It was as Nocturne said: a stone shrine stood a short walk away from the mansion grounds. It was a gazebo in shape, with a roof and many pillars overgrown. Window openings still displayed a view of a nearby pool of water. At the shrine's center was a statue of a woman. The faded paint spilling over the statue's eyes might've suggested to Xander's team that it was an homage to the Matron of the Black Rose. She even held a staff of sorts, with a loose chain pattern wrapped around it. And, in one hand was the shape of a blindfold. The first was the weapon of LeBlanc, the latter an allusion to her illusion magic; that was what they'd see.

Xander knew better. The staff was the wrong shape, ending in a T shape rather than LeBlanc's crescent staff. The scent reminded him of the scent of saltwater and the release of letting go of weights. It all added up to a single identity, but there were some discrepancies from what he knew.

_Well, I suppose there's room for artistic licensing..._

The identity of the statue didn't matter much, for the shrine had a new master. The feeling of ash and anticipation in the air told him as much. The large blades hidden in nooks and crannies - not so inconspicuous if one knew what to look for - were only dressing.

_Alright. Showtime._

"Alright. We're here," he declared.

The team stopped in their tracks. Xander hoped it was a subconscious decision they did to corner him against the shrine's wall. Regardless of his position, he straightened his back and turned to face his team.

"So, why'd you bring us out here?" Gerris asked with crossed arms. He was unarmed, but still formed an imposing shape.

"I'd rather not share my secrets in a place controlled by the Black Rose, thank you very much," Xander answered.

"We're still in Black Rose territory," Erret noted.

"True, but they don't have listening wards here. I'm more comfortable with that fact," Xander replied.

He let the sling bag on his shoulder fall to the floor, revealing its contents, "And, if they asked, 'picnic in the ancient gazebo' is my excuse. Sandwiches, anyone?"

"Uh huh..."

The team sat down and partook of the snacks. The silence nearly gave Xander a chance to recollect himself. Gerris' stare at him attracted his attention though. He figured Gerris would take this opportunity, but the ex-reckoner seemed to be more cautious.

"What made you decide to suddenly be honest?" Gerris asked, brow still furrowed with suspicion. _At least he's trying to not be accusatory._

Xander answered with a brief moment's hesitation, "You guys deserve my honesty. You're my friends after all."

When Gerris' analytical stare did not dissipate, the Left Hand continued, "It also helps that all of your bosses already know all they could know about me; yours especially."

Gerris' eyes widened when he realized the implication. Gerris turned his glare to Erret, but the saboteur gave an explanation before he could ask.

"He figured it out before I left."

"You didn't tell him?"

"Even if he didn't Xander would've figured it out," Yin cut in, "It's how he figured out I was spying for Vladimir."

Gerris turned to Yin and spoke in curious tone, "…that hemomancer socialite? The one who's been talking shit about the Trifarix?"

"Who also happens to actually be an immortal vampire, and perhaps the first human hemomancer," Erret cut explained, "Swain knew he had ties to the Black Rose Cabal, hence why he sent me and Xander to him. And hence why Yin's with us now."

Gerris went silent; Xander could all but see the gears turning in his head. The ex-reckoner eventually scowled at Yin before turning back at him.

"So you've been taking note of us all. You knew where our loyalty was and you still let us follow you. Why?"

Xander sighed at having to repeat himself, "As I said, I trust you guys."

Gerris scowled, seemingly trying to understand Xander's words. Xander was being sincere in his words. Unfortunately, Gerris seemed to find something wanting in them.

_Makes sense. He's known I've been Demacian before everyone else._

"Bastard..." Gerris growled, "How did you even figure us out?"

_"_ _That would be me..."_

The reactions the team displayed were all but predictable. When Gerris turned to Xander's direction and saw the black ghost hovering over him, he yelped in shock and nearly fell over. Yin seemed less unnerved, but her skin paled and she backed away. Erret actually did fall, but he quickly recovered and unsheathed his dagger.

The Left Hand cared little about his teammates' reactions, instead focusing a mounting range on the living nightmare above him.

"Dumbass, wait for your que!" Xander yelled.

"Your time is limited, spies are on the way," Nocturne noted, "I'm taking the fastest option."

"You're going to give them a fucking heart attack!"

"You exaggerate. Their fear is potent, but not that f-"

"What is that?" Gerris asked, nearly shouting, cutting the conversation off. He had taken his own knife from his belt and entered a combat stance, "Ho-How do you know that thing?"

"That is quite the long story," Xander said, "But of course, that is why we're here..."

The Left Hand paused, then shrugged, "It seems you were right, Nocturne. How good are you with that spell I found?"

The demon nodded. The blades around the shrine flew to him, and his form darkened. Umbral runes appeared, glowing an eerie indigo around Nocturne. An alien tongue rattled in the ears of Xander and his team. A shadowy cloud took shape around the demon like an aura, but his silhouette grew dense enough to still be visible within. Xander's team backed away even further. A futile attempt, given that their backs were now against the shrine's walls.

_"_ _The light is fading..."_ rasped Nocturne, emanating black smoke. Soon, there was no light for Xander and his team to see. Xander sighed as the night consumed him.

_A bit rushed, but all according to plan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few edits were made between the FF.net version of this chapter and the one posted here. Fixing up small grammar errors, removing sloppy redundancies; that sort of thing.
> 
> Also, internet points if you get the lore references. Particularly the one in the gazebo; even if I felt the details spell it out.
> 
> As always, please leave a comment with your thoughts so far. Any and all feedback is appreciated.
> 
> Edit 29/09/2020: ayyyyy added some art to the chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

"…All I'm saying is the Charger doesn't look like a bull," Xander spoke, "I mean, I get that those stars are supposed to form that shape, but I don't know how the guy who figured it out did so."

"Well, you're closer to the source than we are," Gerris pointed out, "Don't you Demacians have that weird tradition with Targon?"

"Yes, the Crown of Stone," Xander replied, "I vaguely knew a guy who got charged with that. Dauntless Vanguard, but chatted with the rest of the army just as well. A Noxian force killed his boss, though, so he got discharged."

"He still alive?"

"On one hand, the Crown of Stone is basically a death sentence," he could hear the shrug in Xander's voice, "On the other hand… yeah, I think so."

Gerris turned to face him, "Erret, you got anything happening in the countryside?"

Erret rolled his eyes, "With stars? By the countryside next to Noxus Prime? The smoke is only slightly clearer…"

"The smoke isn't so bad," Yin commented from his side, "You can still see the Serpent in… in…"

"Yeah, you can't see anything over Noxus Prime," Xander chuckled.

As Gerris also chortled, Erret looked to his lover with a gentle smile, "Perhaps you're remembering that view of The Scourge by Bel'zhun."

Despite the minimal significance of the topic, Yin seemed troubled.

"No, I remember… I don't remember…"

"Do you need anything?" Erret's tone dropped with concern, "Maybe a drink?"

"…Y-Yeah, I'd like that."

Erret stood up from his cushioned seat and walked over to the table by the window. Whilst not high up compared to some nobles' dwellings, Xander's apartment was the highest point in the neighborhood. This gave many benefits. For one, without interfering buildings or ropes, the space above the building was open; something Xander had exploited with unusual zeal. The roof was flat and held a glass window. It was expensive, but allowed a view of the stars unparalleled in the city.

The altitude helped as well. Open windows let refreshing breezes in, and the view of the Immortal Bastion beyond the curtains was nice dressing for the meals Xander provided. Ionian teas, Noxian beers, and even Demacian wines were laid out, alongside cured meats and a basket of bread. It was the Noxian ideal realized: through blood, sweat, tears, and strength, everything had been earned by Xander.

In perhaps more authentic Noxian style, however, Erret went for the simple glass vase of water. He filled up a small cup before returning to Yin. She took the drink gingerly.

As Erret comforted Yin with an arm around her, Gerris and Xander continued their conversation."

"How long have you been stargazing?"

"I started a few years before joining Noxus. Must say, as much as I like the surplus of industry over here, Demacia's a much prettier place."

"I suppose that's one reason we've wanted that place since forever," Gerris chuckled, "Mmm. Think you'll see it again?"

"Most definitely," the Left Hand smirked, took a sip of from his glass, then spoke, "In fact, you guys will be coming with me."

"Oh?"

"Have a look."

The Left Hand reached behind him and picked up a scroll. After making a brief show of the seal that closed it – the mark of the Grand General – he opened it up and threw it to Gerris. The reckoner caught it before it floated down to his meal.

"… you have been selected by the Left Hand to undertake an espionage mission…" Gerris read, "… infiltrate Demacia… approved by… how the hell did you get this through them?"

"A lot of secrets were shared," the Left Hand smiled, "But, yes, this is a mission to change the world. Or I suppose, just Demacia, but if Demacia became more Noxian, that would change the rest of the world by definition…"

"And you brought us here to give a mission briefing?" Gerris shook his head, "Well, first off, who else is in on this?"

"On one hand, it'll just be us and any other Noxian spies already deployed," Xander implied, "On the other hand, every group in Noxus wants a piece of this. The Black Rose is funding us, Yin's here to represent the Crimson Circle, and Swain-"

"-recommended you and Erret," Yin finished. She stiffened in Erret's grip, prompting him to curl closer to her. It seemed colder in the apartment; perhaps a northern wind had come?

Xander nodded, "Yep, that's right."

Gerris raised an eyebrow, "… did you tell Yin earlier?"

Yin shook her head, "No, he didn't..."

Xander shrugged, "She has her connections. I'm sure someone else's gave her the head's up..."

"So... we're infiltrating Demacia. What are we doing there?" Gerris asked, "Is this an assassination, asset denial...?"

"All of that or none, depending on the situation," Xander replied, "We have intel on Demacian internal affairs. A mage rebellion in the capitol could give us the chance to manipulate Demacia into a position where they'd accept Noxian rule... or at least a truce then alliance."

Gerris grimaced, "That's seems very unrealistic."

Xander grinned, "Nothing like Demacian optimism. Or is it naivety?"

In the distance, thunder rumbled. Erret stood up to close the windows, but was stopped halfway when Yin spoke.

The hemomancer scowled, "There's a catch."

Turning back to see the discussion, Erret saw Xander's expression flicker. The grin on the Left Hand's face lost something as his gaze turned to Yin.

"You're not saying something," Yin accused, "What aren't you telling us?"

Erret realized at that moment that sincerity was what Xander's grin lost. A shiver ran down his spine. A storm started outside, and a cmist floated through the window. But more chilling to Erret was Xander's grin; it was now filled with something mischievous; sinister...

"Well, Yin," Xander shrugged, "You tell m-"

Before Xander could finish his answer, Yin jumped from her seat. A red blur in her crimson dress, Yin lunged toward Xander and picked him up by his throat. A cloud of blood surrounded her, and her eyes glowed an eerie red. Even whilst being choked, Xander seemed calm about his circumstances.

Thunder echoed outside, and like from a memory half remembered Erret remembered that Xander's apartment didn't have a glass skylight; it was only a wish...

Gerris sprang up like a cornered animal, "Yin, what are you doing?"

Yin ignored Gerris' question, instead asking Xander one of her own, "Your specialty is dream magic, isn't it? This is a dream!"

Xander paused, then smirked, "You caught on quick… But, no points. I did give you hints.

He snapped his fingers, "Nocturne..."

A rasping sound turned Gerris and Erret's attention to the skies, where two stars gleamed brighter than the rest. The circles sharpened into diamond cuts – eyes; the eyes of a demon, Erret realized – as the rest of the sky darkened. The demon descended, shattering the glass window, letting the storm in. Still, the eyes consumed his vision, demanding attention, and Erret could not look away.

* * *

Erret looked away from the blinding sunlight and found himself in a familiar room. Traces of sand lined the corners, and an arid heat was in the air. Old wooden furniture decorated the room, with a half-filled jug of ale sitting on the center table. Standing decoratively by the window was a weapons rack, which contained the only polished items in the room: a freshly cleaned set of an axe, a halberd, and a sharpened shield.

"Mmm, good to be back home," Gerris' voice echoed behind him. Looking to the reckoner, Erret found an expression of relief and blissful ignorance on his face. That expression dripped off of his face like washed paint.

"Wait..." the reckoner remembered a moment after Erret did, then quickly put a hand on the desk, "... no, that feels real..."

"Dreams usually do," two voices replied.

They looked back to the entrance of the room, where their apparent hosts stood. Or floated, in the case of the demon. Xander was unarmed, but there was an aqua/indigo glow beneath his eyes. By his side glaring menacingly was the demon; Nocturne, Erret recalled.

"So it was a dream..."

"Yes, Gerris, it was, and still is, a dream. But don't think about that; it makes keeping the dream stable harder," Xander replied, "That would be my first... revelation is too fancy a word for this... But yes, Yin was correct: I am a dream mage. Allows me control of my dreams, control of others' dreams, dreams withi-"

"Where is she?" Erret strained each syllable, glaring at his friend.

Xander snapped his fingers again, and a rustling from behind Erret drew his attention. The sounds came from within a cupboard that he was rather certain hadn't been there earlier. Sure enough, Yin shoved her way out of it, pushing aside training staffs and wooden swords. Falling to her hands, she coughed up the dust released from the cupboard.

"What the hell-" Yin gasped for air before turning her attention to Xander, "What was that for?"

"Well, you did try to kill me..."

"In a dream!" Yin coughed again as Erret came to her side, "It wouldn't actually hurt you. And now that I think about it, how are we sharing a dream?"

"My magic," Xander replied, "I'm a decent mage out of sleep, but here I call the shots. And that includes who can join in on the dream. Also, to answer your question, are you in pain?"

"I'm sorry, what did you just ask me?"

Xander chuckled, "I'll take that as a yes. Dreams rarely are fatal, but they can hurt as bad as reality."

Now Gerris paled, "What do you mean rarely?"

Nocturne chuckled with ghastly echoes, "Before I met Xander, I harvested souls through dreams. Would you like a demonstrati-"

Xander stood in front Nocturne, getting in between the demon and his team, "Now, now, I told you that you'd take your share from _me._ Don't try it."

"I could take away their fears now, and just that. It would not be too difficult."

"You're still a demon," Xander growled, "That's a risk I won't take."

A hand grabbed Xander's shoulder from behind.

"What risks are these, Xander?" Gerris asked, judgement in his voice.

Xander looked his old mentor in the eyes as he answered, his voice clipped, "Demons consume life essence to survive. This process is easily done when their targets are emotionally enflamed. Given how easy people fall for their vices, most demons focus on negative traits. Eventually, they apparently gain a taste for it. Agony, hopelessness, guilt... and fear."

"And in doing so, they deprive their targets of these emotions?" Yin asked.

"They cause apathy in doing so. Extended periods of consumption can lead to permanent damages to the soul," Xander explained, "Some, more sinister demons feed that way."

"Then what are you doing, consorting with a demon?" Erret asked, "Aren't you putting yourself at risk?"

"... certain mages can counter certain demons," Xander gave a soulless smirk, "Dream magic counters nightmare magic. After all, nightmares are hardly terrifying when you can change their appearance."

A silence filled the dusty room. He Erret, Yin, and Gerris sent glares to Nocturne. Behind Xander, the demon seemed to back up. Nocturne's body even started fading, until a finger snap brought away attention from Nocturne.

"I've been dealing with Nocturne's bullshit since I was a kid," Xander bragged, "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Yin asked, doubt filling her every word.

Xander stared through her soul, "Yes, I am."

The Left Hand shrugged, "But enough of that. The point of forcing this dream state is that it'll make explaining things easier. Control the world as a prop for my presentation, you know... so ask away! What would you like to know?"

Silence returned to the room, but if the glances Erret, Yin, and Gerris gave each other was any indication, the subtext had changed; a line had been drawn. The lovers grimaced, and Gerris sighed in irritation. After a short pause, he shrugged and spoke.

"Alright then," Gerris directed a piercing stare to Xander, "What is your plan?"

Xander sighed, chuckled, and took a seat at the table; a cushioned seat that had conjured itself out of nowhere.

"Oh, where to begin..." Xander motioned to the table before him, "You'll want to sit down for this."

With cautious stares at their host, the team sat down. Drinks spontaneously appeared; their favorites, based on what they had told Xander previously. When their wooden chairs turned to comfy seats, they almost jumped right off.

Gerris did when Xander spoke.

"Well actually, to all it a plan would be dishonest..."

"What the hell did you say?"

The massive reckoner pointed a menacing finger at Xander.

"You mean to tell me you brought us on this mission _without_ a plan?"

"I told you we had an objective. Manipulate Demacia - through politics or culture - in a manner that benefits Noxus," Xander sighed, "I've also told you that a... volatile situation is under way. There are simply too many variables in the Mage Rebellion for any one plan to encompass."

"Really now..." Gerris growled, "Explain that, then."

Xander's eyes glowed an eerie indigo, and figures seemed to materialise behind him. From outside the door, Erret witnessed what seemed like a small platoon form up. If these were all persons of interest, Erret thought, then perhaps Xander couldn't be blamed. At least in Noxus all they had to deal with were three powerful politicians.

To put it lightly, anyways.

Among the figures, two were conjured in the apartment. The closest was a youthful blonde woman in ornate armour and blue eyes. Just behind her was a bare-chested, chained man with a wild look in his eyes. The blonde woman stepped forward, stopping at Nocturne's side; right behind Xander.

"I suppose we should start with main players," Xander said, turning to motion a hand to the woman, "This is Luxanna Crownguard. And it could be said that she's the reason the rebellion began."

Yin squinted, "A Crownguard started the rebellion? Aren't they among the big shots in this kingdom?"

"Yes, they are. In fact, Lux's brother, Garen, is sword-captain of the Dauntless Vanguard, but I digress," Xander explained, "Lux is known to the Trifarix for her family's status, but the Grand General knows something more... intimate. Simply put, she's a mage."

"Figured," Erret snorted, "So this noblewoman looked down and saw what her kind were being put through, and chose to stop it?"

Xander gave a bitter chuckle, "If only she had that backbone. No, what is commonly known is that she was involved with the initial riot that started the revolution. The secrets Swain knows is that she specifically was the one to free the Mage Rebellion's leader from prison: Sylas."

At this, the bare-chested man stepped forward. Now closer, Erret could see the glow of magic in the apparent leader's eyes. He saw faint scars on the man's arms; carved runes, he thought. He also noticed that the chains he wore had a familiar texture: it was made of petricite, or a derivation of it.

"Sylas is the center of the rebellion," Xander explained, "His actions on the day of the initial riot set the precedent for the rest of the rebellion. A cathartic release for the oppressed of Demacia; an explosion that left many, including the old king Jarvan the Third, dead. By most definitions he's a terrorist, but considering the systematic trauma Demacia pulls on mages..."

"Luxanna supports him?" Yin asked.

"A complicated relationship, most likely," Xander corrected, "When Sylas broke out, he led a revolt to the palace. The king died, the prince was to be executed, then came Lux, armed with just a crossbow. She didn't fight with Sylas much that day - probably because she wouldn't use her magic in public - but I suspect that both parties would rather avoid fighting. Of course, they did fight."

"So Lux is the crux point," Erret noticed, "If she chooses to stay loyal, nothing changes. But she seems to have motive to switch sides. If that happens the rebellion could be successful."

"Simply put, yes," Xander replies, "But, those are just the main two players. To give a short confirmed list of other players, the prince, Jarvan the Fourth, holds hatred for the mages, considering they killed his father. Allegedly, anyway... Xin Zhao is loyal to the prince, but his past means other Demacian aristocrats distrust him. Garen Crownguard is loyal to the crown, but that could change depending on his sister, and Tianna Crownguard, Garen and Lux's aunt, is married to the head of the Mageseekers..."

Gerris' eyes narrowed, "Xin Zhao? Sounds familiar... who's that?"

The Left Hand smirked, "Not much is known to the Noxian public about Xin Zhao. But for those in the know... well, you'd know him as Viscero."

Gerris gaped, "Viscero?! The undefeated spear?"

"Wait, who's Viscero?" Erret cut in.

"An old Reckoner; a legend. I was ten years old when he last fought in the pits. They say he never lost a fight," Gerris explained, "During the reign of Darkwill, he conscripted reckoners to fight for him. Viscero's company disappeared in some mission near Demacia a good few years back..."

Gerris paused, then turned his gaze back to Xander, "And he betrayed us for Demacia? How do you know that?"

Xander smiled, "My magic deals with all dreams, not just my own. I wandered into a reckoning pit at around five years old... so to speak. And just to be sure, The Grand General's demon confirmed that tidbit..."

Gerris squinted, "The Grand General has a demon?"

"Yep, and it focuses on secrets. Anyway..." Xander continued his explanation, "Concerning just humans, there's a lot at play here. Never mind that Freljordians in the north are looking down here with envy, and to the east they still assume the Legion is knocking at their door. It's a huge clusterfuck."

"And that's just humans?" Erret paled, "What non-human things are out here?"

A sound like crackling fire came from behind Xander. Nocturne floated forward, arm blades awkwardly following his fist as he made the motion to cough.

"Demons... and perhaps others, if the memories are true," Nocturne said, "For demons... I have been bested physically a few times here. Those defeats leave shards of broken essence behind; shards that can turn into new demons. I have recollected most of them into myself, but the occasional independent night terror can take reign in a town. If the rumors are true, one such terror slew the last patriarch of House Vayne... though I have no memories of visiting that region..."

"Then there are the Aspects," Xander continued, "Demacian history is largely influenced by the cultures and... anomalies of Mount Targon. The Winged Protector and the Veiled One - two immortals that many Demacian pray to - are said to have been Targonian refugees. Their stories are old; older than most people live to be... but, these two do exist."

"That's quite a claim to make," Yin noted, "What's your proof?"

"LeBlanc - that's the Mistress of Guile, Gerris - is a nosy shit, and Lord Vlad gets bored waiting for the next great change to make. They had people tune in on Demacia at the time. At the very least, that confirms powerful winged entities once led Demacia."

Gerris squinted with suspicion at hearing this, but shrugged when Yin and Erret nodded. They seemed more in the loop, and if the talk of immortals was legitimate, then...

"Well, these immortals lived a long time ago," Gerris noted, "What proof do you have that they're still active, never mind alive?"

"...none in particular, but I'm not taking chances," Xander replied, "They're not the only ancient entities that have operated here; hopefully, we won't need to deal with them."

"And if, by sheer bad luck, we do?"

"I don't have a strict plan, but I have a few ideas to play around," Xander answered, "Ultimately, these next few weeks will determine the course of our stay here. The more info I get, the more I can plan around."

The dusty room went silent then, save for the whisper of a breeze. The topic seemingly finished, Xander banished his props. The figures of Luxanna and Sylas and the rest behind them faded to sand, then dust, then nothing.

Xander sighed, "Well, there's another one down. What else do you want to know?"

After a brief silence, Erret spoke.

"What's your stake in this?"

Xander squinted, "Come again?"

"Why are you doing this?" Erret spoke with gravity, "Normal people don't orchestrate rebellions for no reason... most extraordinary people don't either. There's a reason you're doing all of this."

The saboteur sighed, "I know it's personal, but... it's clear you're not stopping anytime soon. So, I just want to know why you do this."

Xander flinched then went silent. He turned away with a snort.

"I'd like for you to know that I'm not mad at your questioning," The Left Hand said, "I'm just... disappointed that you have to ask that question."

Xander deeply exhaled before he next spoke.

* * *

There was something in his lungs.

Erret dropped to his knees as his throat burned and his stomach wobbled in him. The urge to wretch boiled his blood, but his body came empty, producing only spit and pain.

It subsided as soon as he rose up, and he was disgusted to see Yin and Gerris rising with him; they seemed similarly debilitated.

"Not pleasant, no?" Xander's voice echoed, though Erret didn't know where the Left Hand was, "I've never taken a petricite potion before... but I knew someone who did. Some poor soul who wanted to serve his country. Used to be a mage before... he never fully recovered; got cut down in his first battle. But that's besides the point..."

Erret's vision fully cleared, and he found himself in a dimly lit corridor. the telltale signs of Demacian architecture remained, only instead of open windows and grand statues, the pillars were simple, and bars constrained them. This was a prison, and even without knowing Xander he knew what - who - was trapped here.

"Demacia was built on the dream of a just utopia. Nevermind the vague nature of justice; this dream, for many, remains unfulfilled."

Cries echoed down the corridor. The mages within the petricite cells reached out to Yin, Gerris, and Erret. Jugs filled with a grey drink - the petricite potion Xander simulated, Erret thought - were stationed before each cell. Disgusting sounds of coughs and wretches intermingled with the prayers for mercy and moans of horrified pain. Erret made eye contact with one and felt something drop in his heart. The captured mages' eyes shone with different vibrances and different tears, but the desperation for salvation remained in all of them. But, Erret suspected, they would never get it.

"The promises of brighter futures, fair trials, freedom to live one's life; for all people... since Demacia's founding it has never been achieved. A debt was owed... but now?"

Cries shifted into roars of rage. Erret turned behind him and found a new scene. He saw what was once a marble paradise. Massive petricite walls and arches surrounded the square he was in, and statues stood, silent spectators to the madness within. For it was a mad scene; the stench of blood was rich in the air, and corpses clad in runesteel filled the street. A legion of revolutionaries cheered for someone's death. Horrifying curiosity sinking into them all, Gerris followed Erret, who followed Yin, cutting a line through the crowd. At the center of the ocean of people was the source of the commotion. A man with broken chains stood over a figure in ornate gold armor, tied to a throne. The unshackled man was unmistakeable, but as for the armored prisoner...

"People of Demacia!" Sylas exclaimed, before dropping his tone to a feigned solemnity, "It pains me to say this, but your king is dead."

Gasps forced the crowd to silence, so Sylas continued.

"His son, swine princeling the Fourth..." Sylas sneered, "Stands accused: complicit in his father's reign of terror over the nation's mages."

"All lies!" the prince spat out, "You know nothing of me, or my father!"

Sylas feigned interest, but his determined disgust was clear in his eyes. The Unschakled would not be changing his mind. Nonetheless, the prince spoke.

"I've brought aid to the hinterlands, met countless exiles," the prince paused, pained, "I... I even loved someone not so different from you."

Sylas laughed, "Ah, so that redeems you, eh? You have a magic friend?"

Sylas grabbed the Prince by his hair, a renewed fire in his eyes, "But, I have nothing against you personally. I stand against your _bloodline_. Did your kingly father lift a finger to help us? Did he condemn Mageseekers, and free mages? _No._ He is complicit in the suffering of my people. And so are you."

Sylas ceased his personal performance and addressed the crowd once more, "Friends, do we need more testimony from the swine?"

"No!" roared the mages, sending chills up Erret's smile.

"Does he deserve to be spared?"

"No! Execute him!"

Amidst the mages' cheers, soldiers and other citizens whispered their fears. Yet, Erret was focused on the stage. He saw the Prince mutter something beneath his breath, the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes...

"He would've saved you..." Erret read the prince's lips. At least, he thought that was what the prince said.

"An execution would bring anarchy; mages would run wild in the streets," Sylas declared to the crowd with vile sarcasm. They laughed in turn. Sylas sneered to the prince once more, "It seems your bloodline's coming to an end. But, we aren't savages..."

A mage rose up the stage with a covered dish, disgust and rage in his eyes. He opened the dish before the prince's wide, horrified eyes.

"I've granted you a final meal..."

A rat squeaked and crawled out of the dish, tied to the plate by its tail. It would not escape, and neither would the Prince. Sylas would give final humiliation to the royals of Demacia before the stage closed.

Erret heard Yin's voice hitch and step away.

"This is..."

"A vile mockery of justice," Xander finished Yin's sentence, appearing from the crowd, "And yet, it is... so horrifyingly human. The atrocities committed by the Mageseekers go against every moral ideal humanity has ever come up with, yet in Demacia its been normalized. Since the kingdom's founding, mages have been denied their freedom and dignity, and in some cases their lives. Worse still, the perpetrators gain in their oppressing. The Mageseekers hold political power by their very nature, and in the modern day their leader is married to a Crownguard. A grand revolution... it was going to happen eventually..."

"So the prince deserved it?"

"No, of course not," Xander sighed, "And that's the point. Once upon a time, the situation in Demacia could've been simply fixed. Here and now, everyone and no one is to blame... blood is on everyone's hands, and each side uplifts a sect of the country. In truth, if action isn't taken, this country is doomed. There is nothing in it that can be changed... except the values. The vague concept every Demacian pays homage to has influenced every side, every soldier and civilian in this kingdom. The idea of Demacai itself is broken. But, the extremes be damned, I'm going to fix it. "

The scene, frozen in time, faded. A black Void remained, with Xander alone within.

"Does that answer your question, Erret?" his question was a whisper, both judgemental and understanding; an arrogant dare and a careful apology.

In truth, it did.

But Erret did not confess so, "No. No, not quite..."

"What?" true confusion was clear in Xander's voice.

"I... I know there's another reason. I don't know why you won't share it, but..." Erret sighed, "Please, trust us. Tell us."

Xander was silent for.a brief moment before asking, "What gave it away?"

And the facade dropped. Erret smirked, "You did, just now."

Xander's jaw almost dropped, but he made up for it and laughed.

"Well played," the Left Hand rubbed the back of his head in a totally-not-embarrassed manner, "Did you just think I was hiding something?"

"You've been worrying us with your paranoia and silent judgement for the past two days," Erret answered, "It was a gut feeling that you weren't going to tell us everything."

Xander's expression dropped again, "Well, I want to. And to be fair, the reason I just gave..."

The Left Hand tightened his fists, and he exhaled with contained anger, "...It is a reason. My personal reason, I'd think. But I digress, I wasn't telling you the whole truth."

Gerris crossed his arms and snarled from behind Erret, "Despite promising not to lie to us? I'm tempted to kill you here."

"It's a dream, go fish, but please don't. I can explain better out here."

"That's why I haven't," Yin growled, finishing Gerris' thoughts, "I still won't kill you, but damn if I won't make your life hell or this."

"I doubt you'd believe me, but... well that's the reason," Xander shrugged, "These motives and where they come from... I doubt you'd believe me."

"Try me."

* * *

The void didn't fade.

That was the second thing Erret noticed in the new dream. The first was his awareness of being awake. Or rather, whatever counted for it when still in a dream. He looked into the dark, waiting for a visual queue for the third.

It never came, for Xander's voice took spot number three.

"As you know, there are many reasons as to why I feel the way I do," Xander started, "What you behold is perhaps the most important one. Not only because of its... gravity, but also because it's the reason the General's gives a damn about."

Gerris' voice echoed, despite not being visible, "So, is this your reason, or borrowed from the General?"

Erret could hear the smile in the Left Hand's voice, "You could say that. Now, shut up and experience."

And so they did. They laid in the dark, waiting and alone. Erret briefly pondered his loneliness; perhaps he was watching a perspective? But, who - or what - was he in this dream? The dark ever so slowly brightened.

In a flash of pain and refreshment, the scene changed to green and black. He stood - no, that wasn't right - over a burnt crater in a green plain land. Temperate forests suggested the Freljord-Noxus border, or perhaps it was Demacia's border with the icy northlands.

A terrified squeal told him was not alone. He realized he was fenced into a pen. Turning around, he found pig tracks and a broken wooden gate. A burnt carcass also lay, likely slain on his violent entry. That might've been enough reason for anyone else, but he wondered... What was he, that these animals ran from him?

He followed the tracks and got his answer. Cradling a pig in his hand was a farmer in dark gray garb. The farmer looked up at him and screamed in terror. The farmer demanded in a foreign tongue what the identity of the thing was, then quickly ran away, pig in tow. An unsatisfied irritation flushed through him, and he followed swiftly.

He found new prey a moment later. The farmer had run to a superior: the local military. A platoon of men wearing Noxian gear surrounded him. Their commander - a woman wielding an ornate halberd - muttered something under her breath as he approached. The farmer was forced behind the commander, who shouted an order.

"Send it back to where it came!"

Archers behind the commander shot flaming arrows, and a hemomancer sent cursed blood. The blade of the commander's halberd flowed and fired an arc of light at him. He simply shut his eye, channeled his anger, and snapped them open to release his wroth.

With a gasp, Erret was pulled out of his host. He fell to floor in a daze and looked up to see the commander. Her mouth was open, eyes glaring and glowing with fear and rage. Rising to his knees, he saw arrows loosed floating in air. The only moving thing came from behind the Noxian militia and the farmer: Xander.

"About a decade before I came to Noxus, a warband directly employed by Lady LeBlanc disappeared on excursion near the Freljord," The Left Hand explained, "The Grand General, in his investigations on the Black Rose, has his demon collect secrets relating to their disappearance. He believed they were working on a secret plot of LeBlanc's. Only recently did she share with Swain the truth."

Xander pointed over Erret's shoulder. Erret turned to see what he was hosted in and gasped. A massive eye floated in the air before him. It had no mouth, three tentacles charged with a violet magic protruding from it, and a mix of scales and bones covering it.

"Since time immemorial an ancient enemy has shown its face," Xander declared, "The Warband 'Thoth's Vision' encountered this being; a slave of the great enemy. The Darkin who in legend conquered the world before Noxus were said to be driven by oblivion. In Shurima, old legends and ruins speak of an unknowable enemy. They are what brought the legendary kingdom of Icathia - the only people to defy the Ascended - to nothingness."

"They are the Void. And they are real."

With a finger snap, Erret, Yin, and Gerris found themselves back in the blank space of Xander's mind. They stood up on the black nothingness of the dream's floor and looked to the Left Hand with gaping shock on their faces.

"That's..." Yin started.

"Vague, I know. Worse than even the Winged Protectors, in some places," Xander defended, "But, this is something all of Noxus' leaders know. LeBlanc's records have taken note of various reports in the Empire's existence; Vladimir supports them with his memories, and his knowledge on the Darkin; Swain and his demons confirm them."

"And this relates to Demacia how?" Gerris asked.

"Simple: we need everyone we can get," Xander replied, "An empire of demigods couldn't beat the Void; Noxus would fare worse. Personally, impossible as it is to think, I think we'd need the whole world to defeat the Void. But, uniting Valoran - through a Noxus-Demacia alliance, or any other means - would give us at least a chance."

"And the mere threat of this... Void... was enough to convince the Grand General to let you go with this mission?" Gerris shook his head, "I mean, I get it, but you don't have a plan. It doesn't seem in Swain's nature to let a prized asset go off like that."

"Noxian High Command can afford that gamble. They may not trust me to get this job done, but they trust enough that I can make it back," Xander sighed, "There are quite a few ticking timebombs around Runeterra. As I said, Demacia is on a slippery slope that could lead to the end of the Kingdom. The safe bet, which Swain wouldn't mind taking, is to send the Legions in when Demacia's devolved itself enough. But, that route doesn't bring all of Demacia's power to the theoretical alliance. Sending me is a low-risk, high-reward move."

Yin crossed her arms behind Gerris, "So, is that all of your reasons? Or is there anything else you want to share?"

Xander stood in silent thought.

He gave an awkward laugh, "Well, if you thought the Void made no sense... ah, screw it, I promised."

He snapped his fingers with finality.

* * *

Erret woke in Hell.

There was no better description he could come up with for the scene before him. He was in a jungle of stone - massive buildings, some as tall and wide as the Immortal Bastion - surrounded him and reached for the skies. But, the stone jungle was ablaze. Heat radiated from fires all around. The higher peaks of the buildings flowed and melted like angry candles. Debris filled the road he stood on - rock and metal, layer over layer. What looked like steel carts covered the lane, but it was hard to tell with the rubble and corpses. Speaking of, they all looked... deformed. Some were simply burnt alive, but others had swelling in places, and dried blood pooled from their orifices. And the air... even it felt wrong.

Snow fell, and a man appeared to let it fall on his soot-ridden skin. Wearing a worn green shirt and ruined verdant pants, he was the sole survivor in the hellscape. He was by no means unscathed; he carried his arm in a makeshift cast of cloth, and he sported a scar over his left eye. Yet, the worse surprise came when he spoke with a familiar voice.

"Ash falls on a dead world," Xander mused with a joyless voice, "Well, make yourselves at home, and... Welcome to Earth."

Yin was the first to speak, "Xander? Wait, Earth?"

"Yeah," Xander hopped on one of the relatively unharmed steel carts and sat on it, "Earth. My old homeworld."

"What do you mean homeworld? What are you trying to say?"

"Well, this is the part where there's no reason to believe, but you'll just have to anyway," Xander sighed, "What I'm trying to say is... this isn't my first life. This world is where my last one ended."

Yin was speechless, and it seemed Gerris was as well. Erret raised a hand to ask a point, but lowered it as confusion settled in. Xander gave a bitter chuckle, then further explained.

"As far as I know, I've lived two lives; one here on Earth, and my second on Runeterra. After dying here, I reincarnated into the new world. How and why, who's to say... but my world never really had a clue on the afterlife."

After a pause, Erret gave a whispered question, "What happened here?"

Xander sighed, "War. Or rather, a collective suicide of civilization."

The Left Hand lied down on the cart, "Earth was very different from Runeterra. Rather than a handful of rather separate cultures with various magics and monsters, Earth was a splintered world of hundreds of nations. It had no magic, either - at least, not enough to influence society; there were always reports that the public disregarded. The lack of magic forced humanity to evolve further than on Runeterra; to fight the world and themselves."

Indigo tears trailed down Xander's eyes, "Eventually, the weapons we made were two much for the fools in power. Worse, the systems were broken; more so than in Demacia, in some cases. The world held its breath, hoping the gun pointed to its head wouldn't be fired. It was."

A sight appeared in the dream. In the distance, a massive explosion rocked the city they lay in. Looking to the horizon, Erret suspected it was whole cities away. Yet, still they could feel its effects.

"Men smarter than me realized that all things in the world are made up of particles called atoms. Other smart men realized atoms could be split further, releasing massive amounts of energy," Xander growled from his high seat, "Then foolish politicians gave it to their soldier-slaves and told them to use it."

"Like the Zaunite war machines used in Ionia?" Gerris asked.

"Worse," Xander sighed, "These weapons - nukes, as they were called, could wipe whole cities from the map. Detonating them caused fireballs hotter than the sun to form. Think of them as one-time-use mass-producible World Runes. You know, those things that caused a soft reset of civilization during the Rune Wars?"

Gerris nodded and gulped. He wasn't the most literate man, but even he knew about the Rune Wars' total destruction. The cataclysm that started Demacia's phobia of magic... in such context one could almost stomach the atrocities the Demacian state performed.

"Except, I'd argue nukes are far worse," Xander said, "The explosions cause... a poisonous effect. Radiation. Invisible to the human eye, can cause vile cancers or rapid degradation, among other conditions. And it can spread-" he snapped his fingers again "- just like that."

"Life on this planet as is known to humans couldn't survive here; not anymore," Xander sighed, "I somehow survived the bombs, but that was worse. I lived my final days in a dead world that likely would never live again."

"Guilt, then," Yin assumed, "That's your reason?"

"I'm self aware enough to know that it's a factor," Xander remained lying, not looking to Yin but to the void above, "But, that isn't just it. It's because, unlike on Earth, I can change things."

He raised a magic-charged hand to the skies above, "I've reflected on my magic a lot. Why do I have magic, why dream magic? It's because this power is my responsibility. Forgive my poeticism, but this power charges me to dream; for those who didn't have the power to; for wishes unrealized; for the dead world I was reborn from."

The void was silent again. The trio of natural-born Noxians exchanges glances of disbelief, guilt, fear...

"How can we believe your claims?" Gerris finally asked, a doubt that feared disrespect in his voice.

Xander have a bitter smile, "You can't. I don't think there's a way I could prove to you all of this... but I hope you can take my word for it."

The Left Hand closed his eyes.

* * *

Erret blinked and recognized the stars. Looking around, he saw Yin and Gerris sitting on the floor with him, backs to ancient stone. They were back in the gazebo.

"I think I've given you a lot to think about," Xander mumbled "Sorry, Yin, but I didn't quite get everything that dream. Another broken promise... Oh well, we can resume when you're ready."

Xander has already risen, and had turned away from them. He spoke with a shade - Nocturne - who regarded him with a curious look before floating away.

"Oh, and it's been about ten minutes in the real world. It may feel like a lot, but that's time conversion for you," Xander stepped off the gazebo's grounds, "I'll see you back at bunk."

Yin stood up, but seemed to be speechless. By the time her mind considered the right words, Xander was gone. Erret rose behind her, but he too was tongue-twisted. Gerris remained sitting, however, and he called their attention with a question.

"Do you believe him?" his gravelly voice betrayed equal confusion.

"I... I want to... but the last two..." Yin decided, "I mean, why would he lie about those last too?"

"A desperate lie," Gerris said, doubt still in his voice, "Erret caught him hiding something, so he-"

"He wasn't lying," Erret declared, "He... was dead serious."

Erret straightened up, "I'm going after him."

"But what can you do?" Yin asked, "If he's serious..."

"The only thing different now is time. He's still on his own - has been since he ran from this place," Erret answered, "We change that. We convince him otherwise. And he's going to accept our help."

The saboteur walked off, leaving Yin and Gerris in the ancient Demacian gazebo. Yin could take care of the reckoner; maybe not convince him that Xander, impossibly, wasn't lying. But, Gerris would have to be there too. Xander needed help, never mind something to temper his idealistic tendencies. A bitter snicker reached Erret's throat: ironic, that a saboteur would need to put something back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To give a brief overview of the SI so far, Xander's isekai-moment doesn't come from a random mugging or truck-kun running him over. Instead, I had his death being slightly after a worst-case-scenario WW3. I don't plan on explaining Earth politics in that future timeline, but the fact that M.A.D. occured there is the key point. It is, after all, a key motivation of Xander's.
> 
> Also, for those in the know, yes I changed a few details with Sylas' initial revolution. I felt (or rather, TBSkyen felt, then I watched his video) that the righteous side of Sylas' revolution - the fact that Demacian mages are literally being genocide-ed - wasn't as clear. So, as to make the scene less one-sided, I added Sylas' little rant. I'll plan on making more changes as I go along, but we'll see...
> 
> Also, I've started adding intro art to the fanfic. If you want more art from me, check out my links in my profile.


	4. Chapter 4

The Left Hand of Noxus, for a brief moment in time, held a peaceful look on his face.

A content smile matched with calmly closed eyes informed him that Xander indeed enjoyed his slumber. Clad in a simple tunic and soft pants, the Left Hand intended comfort. His skin looked healthier than usual, a smooth, vibrant tan. He lay on his bed, muscles relaxed, with only wisps of magic smoke betraying effort. As well as a rune on his forehead, but what else could be done?

He, Nocturne, had done as his master asked.

The demon hovered over his master's body like the Kindred over a corpse. It was only fair of him, Nocturne thought. The demon had been granted some level of humanity by Xander. He still remembered how his chest ached when Xander gifted him the emotions of guilt, as well as the warmth in his neck when he was granted empathy as a release. Even as his tastes rebounded, and he consumed the nightmares of others instead of Xander's, the Left Hand seemed to care for him. For what reason he could not understand... But to delve into his own psyche for deep pain, only to use it as seasoning another's dream diet... the illogical nature of it infuriated Nocturne at times.

The sound of a door opening echoed. Nocturne looked, even though he knew who it was.

"Erret of Bloodcliffs," Nocturne rasped, "You came for him."

The saboteur stood, body tense. His grey-black hair, usually kept somewhat neat, was unkept and glossy; perhaps he had run from the gazebo. His eyes were almost as terrifying as his own, a dark brown between coal and wet mud. They promised vengeance if it was needed.

"Yes," Erret approached cautiously, "Why are you here?"

"Dream mage he may be, Xander still needs help to delve deeper."

"Delve deeper?"

"Time flows differently in dreams; longer lasting the further you go," Nocturne explained, "I deepen his dreams so he can experience them longer."

"And you don't take advantage of his sleep state?" Erret crossed his arms as he reached his bed.

"Once upon a time, when he was weak and I... blind," Nocturne confessed. He snarled at the memory. It was a simple time, then.

"He is skilled enough at manipulating dreams to force me out if need be," Nocturne continued, "We have an agreement now."

"But you still harm him."

"When I am instructed. He accepts the torment. Or the pleasure; he has fed me more than fear..." Nocturne's voice had the sound of a smile, "It is why I have some inkling of what you fleshlings do with your..." the demon gave a low, disgusted growl, "...disgusting lives..."

"So you gain a soul," Erret snarled, "What does he lose?"

Nocturne seemed to look away, "Enough for your concern... in truth, it disgusts me. What I know of his choices. And I partake all the same..."

Nocturne paused, assessing Erret. There was doubt in his eyes, but also the steel of determination. And something else...

"You fear me, don't you, Erret of Bloodcliffs?"

"You're a demon," Erret tensed his jaw, likely gritting his teeth, "It's only natural to fear you.

"What I am is of minimal concern to you, though," Nocturne accused, "Isn't that right?"

"Of course."

The saboteur and living nightmare glare at each other. Erret's hands lowered to his belt, and Nocturne felt his form lose corporeality. After a brief pause the demon made the sound of exhaling.

"If you believe I intend harm towards Xander, you are mistaken," Nocturne rasped, "He has made me more than what I was born as. I would not betray that gift."

Erret's eyes softened, and he sighed. After a brief pause, he opened his mouth.

"You care," the words left them both at the same time, prompting a brief pause in surprise.

Erret blinked at the jinx, then replied, "I do. I care for him. He's my friend."

"He is my summoner," Nocturne replied, the growled, "I am not his servant... but I care for him nonetheless."

Nocturne flexed his arm. The tension discomforted him in a way his less corporeal parts couldn't. His chest also felt an odd tightness, one as old as his... relationship with Xander.

The demon shook its head, "But, enough talk."

Nocturne gestured to Erret's bed, "He knew you'd come. I am here to facilitate your entrance."

Erret paused, sitting in pensive consideration.

"You want to help him, don't you... Erret of Bloodcliffs?" Nocturne whispered.

The saboteur nodded after brief hesitation. It wasn't doubt of Xander, Nocturne knew. The demon nodded, channeled mana to his fingers and tapped Xander's forehead. The Rune on it glowed bright again, then faded just as quickly.

"What was that?"

"I alerted Xander of your arrival," Nocturne answered, "I know not what he does currently, but..."

Erret grimaced in disgust, "Lets hope he isn't doing anything inappropriate."

Nocturne gave his unsettling chortle, "I believe the saying goes, speak for thy self?"

"Just do it, demon."

The demon snorted with some level of pride, then hovered a hand over Erret's face. The smoke emanated, filling the saboteur with the sense of exhaustion. Soon, the saboteur joined Xander in the dream scape, leaving Nocturne alone in the room again. The demon stood idle before shutting his eyes. There was much to ponder,and he'd need to go a level down if he wanted time to get even close to an answer.

* * *

"Are you looking for someone?"

Erret glanced at his side and found a young woman. She was lithe and fit, though not as muscular as most Noxian military women. She had flawless pale skin, with hair of a silver-blonde that curled ever so slightly in predictable patterns. She wore a white jacket with pink pockets over a plain black shirt similar to those of Piltoveran make. Her face was thin and perfectly symmetrical, and her eyes seemed crafted by the divine; on first glance, they were a soft teal, but a closer look revealed a central indigo glow before the ink black of the pupil. The perfect details gave him the feeling of something inhuman, yet somehow that wasn't the feeling that caused alarm in him.

Erret considered his thoughts and the woman's question and remembered. Just to make sure, he raised a hand to his mouth. He heard that dreams were painless, and a chomp to his finger wouldn't hinder him too much.

The woman stopped him with a laugh sweet like wine, "That won't work. Dreams - especially those cast by dream magic - feel real. For the biting test, you need to expect _not_ to feel pain."

Erret narrowed his eyes, "So if I feel pain even in a dream, what does that mean."

"You expected to feel it, which is what you just did. Or, the primary dreamer wants you to feel it," the woman gave a teasing smirk as Erret's eyes widened, "But Xander bears you no ill will, so you don't need to worry about that."

Erret groaned, then caught the woman's words, "Why ask if you know who I'm looking for?"

The woman smiled, "A refresher question helps snap the inexperienced to lucidity. Other good ones include 'How did I get here?' or 'Is what I'm seeing normal?'"

The woman turned her back to Erret and raised a hand, motioning for him to follow. As he did, he asked himself the questions the woman listed and gained even more lucidity. He had no memory of the place he beheld - a place of tall buildings of geometric angles, a bright sky, and verdant green trees. He had no idea how he had arrived, or even where he got the clothes he wore; a black shirt of thick material with long sleeves and a hood, with rough looking yet soft blue pants. He blinked, breathed, and continued down the paved road.

"Who are you?" Erret asked, passing through a road flanked by trimmed foliage.

"Nobody important," the woman replied, the fading sun twinkling on the eye sent his direction.

Erret blinked then furrowed his eyes, "Are you another dreamer?"

The woman seemed surprised at this assumption, then laughed, "Oh, no. I'm a part of the dream. I'm nobody important..." the woman's face paled with sudden sobriety, "Minus important and that's still a valid statement."

They reached a metal gate. The woman opened it with a card of some kind, revealing entryways to different rooms. The woman gestured to enter one with an open door, to which Erret complied. As the door closed, a shudder filled the noticeably tiny room.

"This is an elevator. It's... a room that's moved up and down a shaft for quick transport. More convenient than stairs," the woman explained with an awkward smile.

"I know what an elevator is," Erret deadpanned.

"O-oh..."

"They're mostly used in Piltover though," Erret notes, "They were more common in Xander's homeworld?"

"Yeah. Yeah! Damn, how did I not know that? He knows, or should know, so I... never mind," the woman recollected herself then continued, "Anyway, yes, Earth has a lot more elevators. At least, the parts of Earth he went to," the woman clarified, "... Xander is at the fifteenth floor."

"You won't follow?" Erret asked.

"I'd be a distraction."

Erret gave a pensive sigh, then asked another question, "You said you were part of the dream. Are you... a memory of someone? An idea?"

The woman smiled, "Closer to the latter. Xander likes to... personify himself. Makes reflecting easier, or something."

"Are you... alive?"

"I... don't think so," the woman frowned, "What I know is that when Xander wakes, I don't follow him. We aren't other personalities if that's what you're asking."

"So basically, I'm talking to Xander now?"

"In a sense. Hi by the way," the woman gave a smirk that was definitely Xander's, "You're talking to a part of him. A part of him that... cares more, I think is the right way to say it.

The room ceased its shuddering with a ding.

"If you're hoping to sneak around and find more about Xander in his own head, well... I won't help. I'm still him after all."

"I meant no harm."

The woman's smile faded, "He doesn't care about that. His head, his rules. Now, go on; you've got a meeting."

Erret took a step before turning and asking, "Did he give you a name?"

"...Ava," she solemnly replied, "Xander said there was a meaning to the name, but his mind is quite a mess. Haven't found it yet."

After a pause, Ava continued, "Perhaps we will meet again."

Erret nodded and watched as the door shut.

He was left in a dimly lit corridor, with only three sources of light: a damaged ceiling light faintly glowing, a glaring green sign that said "Exit", and the crack under a wooden door. Said door had a rack of shoes and slippers outside it. They were of fanciful design, with intricate patterns on them, and some being made of a glossy material. Erret recognized only three sets of footwear native to Runeterra: the merchant wear they used getting into Demacia, slippers purchased in Shurima, and Noxian battle boots. He left his own pair by the door and entered.

Sunlight peered in from glass walls, masked by a thin white curtain. Illuminated cushions framed a low wooden table. Before them was a marble counter, atop which was some odd, flat contraption. A series of moving images were displayed one after the other on the surface of said contraption, accompanied by words. They painted a scene of a conversation between what Erret assumed were two close friends, if not more.

"... even if your destination and result are the same, if you manage to walk a little further afterwards , I know you'll get your proper ending," the subtitles read. The girl's voice speaking in an odd tongue informed Erret which party in the play was talking.

"Mute," Xander's voice cut in. The contraption's sound-maker faded in volume, until silence remained.

Erret looked to the source of the voice and didn't find Xander as he knew him. Instead, it was the man from the apocalyptic vision. He wasn't desiccated like before, instead having a fit but slightly thin frame. His skin was slightly paler than his Runeterran incarnation, but that wasn't out of health concerns. What probably was a health concern was the bags under his eyes. The few pimples on it, he couldn't say. Regardless, Xander wore a dark blue shirt and black shorts, both of that not-quite-Piltoveran machined style. He also sported a guilty look.

"Hi," he greeted simply.

"Xander."

"Please, take a seat."

Erret complied, sitting on the firm yet soft couch cushion. He looked to Xander, prompting him to continue.

"I apologise for walking out on you guys," Xander sighed, "Its... personal stuff, I revealed. I was committed, but not fully prepared for how taxing that would be. Assuming you believe the last part, anyway."

"I'd accept the first," Erret replied, "You didn't seem so invested in the second, despite its gravity. And the third..." he looked around the room, "I'm getting more and more convinced."

"Oh?"

"You're a decent liar at best, mostly good at omitting info," Erret explained, "It seems improbable that you'd fabricate a lie this massive, and commit to it so brazenly... what's the smile?"

"I came to a similar conclusion just a few hours ago. Or rather, minutes, from your point of view," even with a different face Xander's smirk shone like the sun, "I have plenty of videos to show you guys. If you guys are even slightly convinced with just a few cityscapes, you'll be thoroughly so after I explain Ancient Rome."

Xander sighed, muttered something that ended with "moo" under his mouth with a grin, then continued, "Of course, I'm not lying. It's just an absurd truth, and again I doubt you'd accept it. That you seem to... well, it bears repeating: I've really been insulting you. As a friend, and as an intellectual."

"Oh please, don't use that word," Erret smiled, "I'm witty, not a bookworm."

"If you'd like, I have some books in my mind that I'd be willing to lend."

"Really? You've memorized whole books?" Erret scoffed, "How do you remember all this? If you're not lying, you'd have memories for two whole lifetimes!"

"Cumulatively just one," Xander gave a sad smile, "The End of Earth cut my life extremely short. In fact, my life here's been actually longer. And as for how, well... memories never fade. It just gets harder to retrieve them. But, dream magic allows for organization of memories. I don't remember per say, I just need to search my head for the memory. And time dilation deals with the hassle quite well."

"Huh. Sounds useful."

"Again, to delve into the poetics, my dream magic allows me to be a vessel for my old world's history," Xander snorted, "I wouldn't be able to transcribe all of what I _currently_ have on paper anyway, but it's a shame I wasn't more of a big history buff."

"More space for Runeterra, I guess?"

Xander smiled at the jest, but it never reached his lips. He raised an odd bottle made of a material that wasn't quite glass to his lips, drinking the yellow juice within. When he finished, he leaned his head in the couch with a smile.

"You came here, just to check up on me?"

"Someone has to," Erret smiled, "More so than I previously realized. Surely you realize you're burning yourself out? You're not even letting yourself rest while you're sleeping!"

"That's not-" Xander cut himself off when Erret gave him a deadpan stare, "Ok, that's fair; it has been a few weeks since my last dream-break. Not counting this, of course."

Xander turned his gaze to the contraption. He made to speak, but decided against his words. He let the contraption show its final scene; a city fading in sunset.

"... thanks," Xander finally said, "I'll be more... welcoming of assistance, I guess."

"Just like that?"

"Hardly. I've been holding people all at arms length for damn near my whole second life. I may know what to do, but execution is a whole different matter," The Left Hand sighed, "I will at least promise an attempt, if you will accept it."

"Can you keep that promise?"

"I can try. Seriously, I'll try."

Erret chuckled, "I believe you. Thanks, I guess."

"Yeah."

Erret followed Xander's gaze to the contraption with its black screen. His mind wandered, and he came upon a question. Without turning his head, he asked.

"That woman who picked me up. Eva, was it?"

"Ah yes, Ava," Xander's voice was a goblet overflowing with pride, "One of my best work, I think. Shame she doesn't really exist."

"What is she?" Erret asked, "Other than your creation?"

Xander's tone seemed to drop off a bit, "If you're assuming she's her own sentient being then well... I don't actually know. She knows what I know, and everything in my dream either comes from my subconscious or yours. That's how it works, by the way... But, don't think me a cruel god damning a poor soul to life. Oh, that would be unbecoming of me."

"What do you think she is?"

"She's me. A part of me, I think. What else is there?"

"Mmm, I guess if you don't know you don't know."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Xander sighed, "I don't want to be a monster, you know. Not even here, I avoid those power fantasies."

"You're a good person."

"Debatable," Xander replied, "I kill. I lie. I do evil things. But, I do it for a good cause; at least, I hope so."

Xander was silent for a moment. Erret raised an eyebrow as Xander sat up then leaned to rest his elbows on his knees. The Left Hand sighed.

"If you want to help me, help me there," Xander said, "I want the world to be a certain way, but I don't want to turn into a tyrant making my dreams a reality. That'd be worse than anything."

"...You're asking a bunch of Noxians to stop you becoming a selfish bastard. You realize that?"

Xander saw Erret was grinning, chuckled once, and soon both of them were laughing like hyenas. As the guffaws died down, Xander shook his head.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Xander paused for a moment, then asked his own question, "Say, where's Yin and Gerris?"

"On their way? Should be a few minutes away."

"Range?"

"Five minutes behind me earliest. At most, who's to say?"

Xander chuckled, "Enough time then. Tee-vee, on."

The contraption - the tee-vee? Or was that an acronym TV? - spurred to life and displayed a map he did not recognized. Three large land masses were displayed, perhaps more, if the big one was a conglomerate.

"We've got a lot of time on our hands down here," Xander turned to meet Erret's eyes, "Have any interests?"

Erret made eye contact then broke it to make a pensive pose. "How would I know?"

Xander chuckled and snapped his fingers, "Alright. Let's start with The Human Era..."

* * *

"Son of a..." Gerris groaned, "My face is probably on a floorboard."

"There won't be much change to your mug," Yin teased, though her voice betrayed equal irritation, "Mine on the other hand..."

They had walked through the door to their bunk, expecting to see Erret and Xander either sleeping or discussing the visions the latter had shared to them. Instead, they found the two having a picnic on a scenic beach. A bridge of some kind lay in the distance, connecting the beach they stood on to a faraway city; a city that had the same massive buildings in the apocalyptic dream Xander showed them. Yin assumed this scene was of the city before its destruction, but she put that thought away quickly. It wasn't important.

The two approached Erret and Xander as they dined on a bucket of chicken legs.

"... she was a close friend, but hardly a significant other," Xander spoke in musing tones, "Think how you and Yin were a three months back."

"So, basically significant others?" Erret responded, then grimaced, "You miss her?"

"As much as I can after so many years," Xander replied, "I try focus on what I had, not what happened."

"Mhm, fair enough."

At that moment, Xander noticed the new arrivals, "Ah, hello Gerris, Yin."

"Hello Xander, was it your idea to put a sleep spell on us on entry?" Gerris asked with a menacingly deceptive smile.

Xander took it in stride, "Actually, no. I'll talk to Nocturne about that. Sneaky bastard's probably pulling something."

Yin chewed on her tongue, "Should we be worried?"

"Nah, Nocturne's a lil' shit, but he'll stick to my orders," Xander mused, "It's actually quite smart. Any sneaky roses walk in, they get a nightmare to the face."

Xander sat up, taking a thinker's pose, "So... how've you been doing?"

"... Walking back from the gazebo?" Gerris answered the odd question, "I mean, what else would we be doing?"

"Getting dinner? Writing letters to your bosses?"

"It's been only..." Yin caught the mistake and sighed, "Right, dream-time-difference...?"

"I just say time dilation, but that works."

"Well, yeah, time dilation," Yin turned her gaze to her surroundings, "How long has it been for you guys?"

"Around three hours, I think," Erret assumed, "We just moved on to this beach... twenty minutes back?"

"Twenty five," Xander looked to a pocket watch strapped to his wrist then met Gerris and Yin's eyes, "Prior to that I gave a short lecture on summarising Earth's history. I think we got to the Bronze Age Collapse?"

"Yeah," Erret chuckled as he sat up, "Now, I know it's crazy to think Xander's not lying. But, if he is, he can definitely just retire and become a writer. The shit he's been saying..."

Yin narrowed her eyes, then shook her head, "You can give me the rundown later, dear. Or, Xander...?"

"I can organise it for later. Or, you can get it started now, but without me," the Left Hand replied, a bottle of liquor in his hand, "I"m taking a break."

"A three hour history lesson? Yeah, I'll let you off," Gerris noted, "Though, you always did take notes for me back in Shurima. Gods know I can't stand those desert guides"

"Its why I'm leading this mission, and you're not," came the Left Hand's sassy response, "Also, me being an ex-Demacian helps. Regardless, context is king, especially in infiltration."

"Can I just stay in the manor until the revolution picks up? I can just sharpen your weapons or something. Maybe train the workers so we have a mini-warband when the Vanguard shows up."

"We'll find a use for you, don't you worry," Xander smiled, "Want some chicken?"

Yin and Gerris sat down, and the latter looked into the bucket Erret and Xander were dining on.

"An Earth delicacy?" Gerris asked.

"I wouldn't say delicacy," Xander grinned, "The term is for is fast-food, and the brand is 'Kentucky Fried Chicken'. It wasn't very healthy, but in a dream I can enjoy the taste for free."

"By taste he means mostly salty, with more interesting salt and crunch on the side," Erret chipped in.

Given Yin's reaction of a simple nod upon eating it, Gerris assumed it was an apt description.

"Do you have something sweet instead?" the reckoner asked, "Had my salt fill from the pork last night.

With a smirk, Xander conjured an apple from thin air and threw it at Gerris. The reckoner caught it and was surprised to find that it fit nicely in his massive hands. Perhaps it was grown to be bigger? When Gerris bit into it, he found that sweetness was also increased, but not at expense to the refreshing splash of water. It may have been from a dead world, but Gerris found the food quite revitalising.

"I imagine this is comfort food for you?" Yin asked after finishing her first drumstick, "It's not half bad."

"Kind of? This is more destress food after a long week," Xander replied, "I took small boxes of chocolates for daily consumption. Rationed over a week."

"Chocolates, wait, you mean the high-class snack that ex-Ixtali guy started making? It was common in Earth?"

"There were artisans who made mouthwatering products. But, there was a shit ton of cheap stuff as well," Xander grinned, "When I said it was going to be a hit, I spoke from experience."

"Huh. Is that cheating, using experience from another lifetime?"

"Hmmmm... maybe when we get back we can ask Vlad and LeBlanc," Xander grinned, "Though, I suppose I'm an interesting case even there."

"Really, how are you special compared to millenia old sorcerers and vampires?"

Xander opened his mouth to speak, but instead chuckled with an awkward smile.

"Oh, don't tease us like that!" whined Gerris.

"You promised, Xander," Yin's warning was far less threatneing due to the teasing, sing-song tone she used, "You're telling us everything, riiiight?"

Xander chuckled, "I am, I will, just... oh boy, if you didn't go crazy over the other crap then this..."

The Left Hand snapped his fingers, and a contraption rose from the sand. A sleek, thin thing, it was made of metal and reflective glass sheet. Said sheet started out black, but like those lights from Piltover, it blinked to life with white light. The light faded back to black, and a golden logo appeared, titled: "League of Legends".

The logo faded to a scene of greenery. Grey ruins overgrown by a forest gave way to roads. Figures barely distinguishable moved across the sheet as a voice explained what was displayed.

"League of Legends is a team-oriented strategy game," the voice said, as the scene shifted. Rather than the overgrown jungle, the new scene displayed a base with red crystals. The largest one was surrounded by the figures again, with a few being familiar.

"Is that the Crownguard mage?" Yin whispered. It was barely heard as the contraption continued its speech.

"... the goal is to take down the enemy nexus, located in the middle of their base, before your opponents take down yours," the voice explained with a pleasant tone, "That sounds straightforward, but how you get there isn't. So, let's walk you through the basics."

The screen's scene shifted again, displaying a forest holding three clear figures. One was a red female knight with purple skin. To the right of her was a hooded archer with a diamond blue bow. And to the left of them both...

"That's Garen Crownguard," Gerris noticed, "The hell is this?"

The contraption continued, "You'll start by choosing a champion from a list of many, all of whom have their own unique strengths and personalities..."

The video continued, describing categories of champions. The archer was used as an example of a ranged marksman, followed by Garen Crownguard making an appearance next to none other than the Hand of Noxus as 'burly fighters who like to get up in their opponents faces'. Then came Luxanna Crownguard as the example for 'arcane mages'.

Yin caught the implication immediately, but was silent for a long while before speaking.

The contraption continued, "... you gain experience by being in the area-"

"Stop, stop, Xander, stop this machine," Yin finally cut in, "I get what you're trying to say, just, stop this shit..."

The screen faded to black again. Xander glanced at Yin with an awkward smile, as if hiding extreme pain. Given what she had just seen...

"So, uh..." Xander cleared his throat, "You ever have that experience where you wonder what you could do in your favourite childhood stor-"

"You are NOT saying that we're fictional characters back on Earth. That is... absurd bullshit!"

"Well, _you're_ not," Xander , "Runeterra as a whole was a fictional world back on Earth. But, no author could hope to write the story of every single being on it, so you guys don't have to worry?"

None of them seemed particularly amused. Gerris once again made to doubt Xander's words, but Erret repeated his confirmation of the absurd claim. All the while, the ocean past the beach grew restless. Xander winced at the atmosphere.

"What reason do we have to believe this?" Gerris asked, "Or do you only have volume to back it up?"

"... my magic only allows me to peer past the curtain, so to speak," Xander measured his words with care, "My vague knowledge of this game taught me where to look. It's how I knew the nature of Noxus from within Demacia, where the empire is reviled. It's how I knew the Faceless in the Trifarix had a secret society, and how I knew Vladimir was an immortal, before meeting him. Of course, what I'm saying could be coincidence, but-"

"Xander, a point?" Yin stared straight into his soul, "Can you _not_ put doubt on yourself every time you explain something? You can't keep dropping existential questions on us like this!"

"What do you want from me? You want the truth, my truth's are all crazy, and I know that!" Xander broke to a panic, "I mean, you don't have to believe me, I'm just saying what I know!"

"It doesn't matter."

Erret's resigned statement brought the attention to him. He chuckled at their astounded faces.

"It doesn't matter," Erret repeated, "If Xander's telling the truth, and he's cheating a story, then nothing changes. He knows where it _could've_ gone, but I imagine you've already changed things."

"I have. Swain and LeBlanc wouldn't have made amends without my interference... at least, what they have that counts for it anyway. And my old friends in Demacia never had equivalents without me..."

"Then its not like anything's predetermined," Erret noted, "You made a choice which changed things. That means we can make choices to change things as well. Hardly existential. The only thing that's changed is that our spy in the system knows a lot more than we thought."

Erret stood up, "We've got our mission, right? I know my choice. If you're going to try fix this kingdom, then someone has to watch your back. Keep you anchored whilst you peek behind the scenes."

Yin growled as she rose up, "Damn it, I'll help as well. But, you're explaining everything! And I mean everything!"

"Yeah, yeah..." Xander shrugged.

"You're giving us that explanation," Gerris repeated Yin's words, standing as well, "But yes, guess I'm here now. Make it worth it."

Now the only one sitting, Xander sighed, "I just wanted a break..."

With a snap of his fingers, a door rose from the sand. Opening up, the team could see a room filled with desks, seats, and the contraptions Xander had used. The Left Hand rose and held the door.

"Let's just get started..."

* * *

Five days in, and they weren't even close to finished.

Gerris hefted the wooden axe and charged with it. Stopping just before the training dummy, he thrust out with the sharp end (or rather, where the sharp end would be on _his_ axe) then raised it up and brought it down, all with a single hand. He turned around and, with the leaden shield he wore to train his arms, he made to shield bash an imaginary foe. He followed up with an elbow and axe slash to behind him, then exhaled. In theory, he'd have killed three enemies in the span of a few seconds.

His muscles ached, so he'd have to rest them. Unfortunate, given his mind was still tired too.

Of course, the first thing they had demanded Xander explain was how a game from his world affected how events on Runeterra played out. All they got was a shrug, some talk about 'multiverse theory' and 'R.O.B.s' (whatever those were, gods knew Gerris wasn't learned enough for this crap, not that Erret and Yin seemed fully understand either) and, in short, an "I don't know". Of course, Erret's whole "doesn't matter" speech applied, so they continued. They followed up with an interogation of the Runeterra secrets Xander was privy to. They still weren't done, but he had at least explained why the Black Rose Cabal influenced the empire since its inception, how Swain played into it, and how they had apparently defeated Mordekaiser a few weeks before the Demacian mission started.

Apparently, knowledge was power. But how that applied to defeating the greatest warlord the world had ever known (who was also an immortal ghost who controlled dead spirits) was far beyond Gerris.

But that was already a lot to take in, so Yin and Erret changed subjects. The politics of the world before, the technologies and arts... the bits that he understood were interesting. The nukes Xander spoke about were troubling, but the more precise options... his military mind salivated at them. Then, there was, of course, philosophy. Xander confessed to not being the most well-read on it, but he was vocal about the ones he knew. He spoke out against brainwashing religions, eugenic ethnostates, the extremes of greed, unity, and anarchy. He spoke for finding purpose for one's self, regardless of the source; he spoke for harmony amongst all peoples; he spoke for a balance of competition and generosity...

It was, admittedly, quite interesting. Especially given the context of the teacher; Xander's obsession with finding middle grounds and paradoxical existences between extremes clearly had an origin.

But, for all they learned, Gerris was left wanting. The volume made Xander's claims more believable (as if all of what he said could be truth, but still, the alternative would be damn absurd), but the intent was still unclear. Xander waxing poetic didn't help. If he believed himself the single heir to a dead world, why not declare himself master of the new one? He certainly had a blueprint in mind, if his ideas of how to fix Demacia were any indication.

He finished a fourth kata with a bit too much force. Even with a blunt wooden training axe, he split the head of the training dummy in two. His thoughts were getting to him. Gerris shook his head; this was why he was vanguard. Put him in the front lines to crush your enemies and he'd be fine. Put him in charge of major decisions, politics, and the like... well... He didn't know how Darius did it.

"Hey, Gerris!" a familiar voice called out. As he retrieved his weapon from its place, Gerris saw that Erdrich had approached him.

"Ah, Erdrich," Gerris fumbled for words, then gestured to the dummy, "Yeah..."

"Uh huh... rough week?"

"You wouldn't believe the half of it," Gerris replied, "How'd you guess?"

"Well, we loyalists of Sharpstem know you're here on business; even the workers like me. When you and yours stop chatting with people for lunch and hang out on your own, well... something's up."

"You don't say..." Gerris glanced his axe, then grinned, "You ever use an axe before?"

"To split wood, not people," Erdrich replied, "I suppose if I want to be a Noxian I'd need to learn the latter, though."

"Not necessarily. All about usefulness, right? If you're squeamish you'll just go to the backline," Gerris flung the axe at Erdrich handle first. The Demacian-born Black Rose loyalist still fumbled it.

Gerris tucked his practice shield closer to him, "But, killing or no, you need to know how to use it."

"Aren't you one of the best warriors in the army?" Erdrich had an awkward smile on his face that betrayed anxiety.

"Legion's what we call it, but... well, who better to teach you then?"

The dull thuds of training weapons filled the hall after. Erdrich was a decent defensive fighter, but his aggresion was atrocious cautious fighter who seemed concerned with hurting his sparring partner. On one hand, Gerris had faced worse before. On the other hand, he'd admit: the Demacian had a hell of a swing. If he trained his eye more, and caught the openings Gerris was leaving more, he'd easily be a threat in the Fleshing pits or on the field.

As they circled each other for another round, Erdrich prompted discussion, "What have you guys been doing?"

There was no way to properly explain what Xander had been saying, so Gerris simply said, "Planning."

Erdrich noticed an opening a split second too late, resulting in a brief exchange that ended with a shove and reset.

"So, what's the plan so far?" Erdrich asked, "Do... you guys need my guys?"

"It is an option we've been considering," Gerris admitted, "Though, if its training you want, I can give it. And you should take it from any other source there is; you and your men. Demacia's going downhill, you'll want to be able to defend yourself."

"Sounds good... you'll be leaving soon, though, right?"

"In a couple days, we head to Meltridge," Gerris answered, "After that, a weekend back here, then a week or more in the Capitol."

"Huh... guess you'll spar with Dauntless Vanguard up there, eh?"

"My boss would skin me alive if I did that," Gerris chuckled, "At least, I think he would. Never can tell with him."

Gerris' body caught up with his busy mind, and he paused in place. Though his face showed solidarity, Erdrich took the stationary action as a queue to attack. Gerris blocked a left slash, used its momentum to flow into a crouch, and swept Erdrich's legs. The Demacian fell over, and was met with the tip of the shield at his throat.

"The last thing you want to do with a shielded, stationary enemy is charge," Gerris chided, "Though, perhaps with a rookie that would've worked. Damn if you aren't strong."

"You really think so?" Erdrich asked as he was helped up, "Damn, then; I was born in the wrong country."

"At least you know that there's a better option," Gerris noted, "... next time you want training, tell me in advance. Damn tired now. Hey, can you put the shield back too?"

"Sure."

The ex-reckoner was silent for a moment. Erdrich returned the training equipment to its rack, he noted the odd, pensive look on Gerris' face.

"You alright there?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah..." Gerris probably wasn't. He cut the crap a moment later, "... Have you ever had doubts about something you once believed in?"

"Well, of course. I'd think most people at Sharpstem have."

"Really?"

"We were raised Demacian, and have Demacian friends in nearby towns, and some of us even have Demacian teachers," Erdrich noted, "We see Demacian problems as we live, and later down the line our Black Rose elders explain them to us. They speak of Noxus, and how things are better in the homeland. We start thinking about Demacia both from a local and Noxian perspective. But we always wonder if what they say of Noxus is true. I mean, some of them haven't even been there!"

Gerris was silent, then took a swig from the waterskin he'd brought along, "How do you know what to believe then?"

"... I suppose you can't. But, something my dad said always got me through it," Erdrich answered, "He said that when the Noxian army fights, they don't fight with hatred, because their enemies could become their allies in the span of a few hours. He said that the empire's strength is that they learn from those they conquer, and because Noxus is always fighting, they're always learning. I guess its the same with belief."

"... so just go with the flow?"

"I guess... but if you don't like where the river takes you, why follow, right? You know what you want, and you can always choose where to go."

"Hmm."

"Oh, is that a pocket watch?"

Indeed it was. Ever since Xander taught them about. the revolutionary idea of watches, they started making ones by strapping them to their wrists with small belts. It was far bulkier than the stuff Xander used in the dream world, but Gerris supposed they wouldn't be able to make those in his lifetime.

"You need the time? Well, it's about half past five," at seeing Erdwich's paling face, Gerris raised an eyebrow, "What is it?"

"Promised the guys I'd meet them in fifteen," Erdwich explained with an anxious chuckle, "I'll need to go!"

"Go right ahead."

Erdwich still called as he ran, "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Gerris concurred then shook his head. The problem remained; Xander's intent was still oh so vague, and every word out of his mouth made it worse. There was still no way to know whether Xander truly had Noxus' best interests, never mind the groups'. And yet, he was supposed to accept it?

As a menacing presence entered the room, the ex-reckoner reflected on the words of his younger associates, and found himself back where he started.

"Nocturne, right?"

He guess correctly; the demon appeared from the floorboards.

"My master requests your attendance to discuss his plans for Meltridge," Nocturne rasped.

"Are we doing a dream conference?" Gerris sighed, exhausted, "I could just take a nap in the corner."

"He suspects you'd prefer softer cushions."

Gerris chuckled, "I'll be right there."

After giving a curt nod, the demon faded away. Mixed emotions bubbling within him, Gerris sighed. He lingered momentarily, then wiped the sweat off of his back. After a minute, the ex-reckoner had his items in a sack, and was on his way back to the manor. Duty called, both for Noxus and for Xander. For better or for worse, Gerris of Drekan would have to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand now the fanfic is up to date with FF.net. 
> 
> Along with insight into Xander's character, I plan to have fun with Runeterran-Earth culture differences in dream scenes. Not to mention pop culture references, though I believe I'm being subtle.
> 
> Anyways, this should end the "intro" arc. I struggled a bit here; didn't want for Xander's team to just accept his word because "why not". Tried to keep some level of doubt, even with the team's loyalty and friendship. Would really appreciate feedback here as to whether I did what I intended.
> 
> We'll be starting up the plot in the next chapter, moving on to Meltridge. For those of you who're in the know about League lore, that location should be somewhat familiar.
> 
> As always, please post a comment. Any and all feedback is appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

"Is there a limit on how Demacian something can be? Because I feel like there should be."

Xander snorted at Gerris' comment, but even he had to agree. They beheld the fanciest carriage House Sharpstem had to offer. An undercarriage of metal with reinforced wheels practically guaranteed that terrain would not hinder their transport. As for the housing itself, the carriage holdings were crafted from pure white petricite wood. The roof had thin tiles highlighted with gold rims, and the curtains for the window were a spotless blue.

The intricate silver falcon designs on said curtains were just the cherry on top.

"If you don't mind delaying for a few minutes, I think I need a drop of blood," Yin commented, "Just to balance all of... _this_ out."

"You can have your fix en route, just close the windows," Xander replied, "Petricite wood is nowhere near as potent as the rock form, oddly enough. But, it absorbs enough that a Mageseeker outside wouldn't be able to notice you getting a blood high."

"You know what? I'll take you up on that."

"Alright, I won't be able to get extra shut-eye, then," Erret noted with some bitterness and bags under his eyes, "Let's get a move on then."

"I promise not to get too crazy," Yin spoke with a sing-song voice.

"Sure you won't."

Xander rolled his eyes as Erret pulled the carriage's deployable staircase and opened the door. As Erret opened the door for his lover, Xander heard Gerris fight back a chuckle with little success. The two 'elders' exchanged a glance as they followed.

The carriage's interior was, as expected, quite luxurious. A tiny table that likely no one would use due to risk of spilling, cushioned seats... Sadly, space was a bit of a premium, due to a few crates packed at the end of the cart.

Nonetheless, Yin lay in a corner of the room and uncorked a vial from her coat. As the hemomancy took effect, Erret took the corner next to Yin's and closed his eyes. Xander and Gerris took the opposite side.

"Just going to let him sleep?" Gerris asked.

Xander replied, "We'll be joining him soon enough."

Gerris nodded, but moments later a puzzled look formed on his face, "Where's your demon?"

"Taking the long way," Xander answered, "As a largely non-corporeal, magic being, Nocturne finds petricite hard to traverse. He can last for a few days in a city, but he'd prefer natural routes."

The Left Hand leaned back against a cushion and took a swig from his water skin, "And it's not like we'll need him immediately anyway... at least, barring absurd bad luck."

"Bad luck... such as?"

"Prince Jarvan deciding to go on a mage-killing holiday with the Dauntless Vanguard around Meltridge?"

"Wouldn't mage killing be his job, after the death of his dad?"

"... ok, bad example, but we should be fine."

A knock at the door cut the conversation off. Xander opened the door again, allowing their host through. Clad in an indigo-blue cloak with gold lining worn over a barely visible white dress, Lady De Recht walked through the door. Xander imagined if she put on a half-mask she'd look the part of a Mageseeker. Without it, she still looked the part of the low noble, what with her raven-black hair done in an elaborate braid design.

"Did I come in at a poor time?"

"Not at all, Lady Elia," Xander replied, "Please, take a seat."

"I believe I will. Oh, and may I have a glass of wine? If I recall correctly, a set should be in the cupboard above you, mister..."

"Gerris. My name is Gerris," the ex-reckoned replied.

"Gerris..." the lady of Sharpstem purses her lips, as if testing how Gerris' name felt on them, "Ah, the reckoner. Apologies for not recognizing, we Demacian spies aren't as... in the know about such topics."

"Completely understandable," Gerris glanced up and found that the carriage did indeed have cupboards. He shook his head at the sight and stood to take the apparent container of drinks. When he found the crate Lady Elia asked for, he grimaced.

"Err, Lady Elia, it would seem your set didn't make the last journey."

Gerris lowered the crate in the cupboard, revealing its contents: a perfectly fine wine bottle and shards of glass that lost their function.

"Mm, that is a such shame," Lady Elia took the bottle from the crate, popped off the cork, and took a swig straight from the bottle. Ignoring the surprised looks on Gerris and Xander's faces, she continued right after, "The glass makes it look refined."

"... are you an alcoholic?"

"I wouldn't go that far... but if I am one, I'm one smart enough to not mix pleasure and business: I'll be fine when we get to Meltridge," Lady de Recht sent a teasing smirk to Xander, "Besides, I suspect you'd rather I not be aware of you and your teams' discussions."

Xander squinted, paused, then replied, "I think we can manage without destroying our hosts' liver."

Elia laughed, "How caring of you."

Xander paused, then made a show of fighting a yawn, "Apologies, my lady, but my team and I were quite busy planning last night. We'll take a nap."

"Do as you please."

Dismissed, Xander glanced at Gerris and nodded. The reckoner leaned against a window and closed his eyes. Xander tapped the shoulders of the rest of his team, hid a rune on their person, then followed.

He awoke in an offensively red scene. Crimson mists that smelled of blood filled the scene. From an architecture standpoint, Xander identified old Noxian styles. The usual dull red curtains, the dark brick walls... and the red fog that wouldn't get out of the way.

A coughing sound from Gerris to his side told Xander he wasn't alone.

"Why the hell are we in a hemomancy dungeon?" The ex-reckoner groaned.

"I would've thought we'd enter Erret's dream, given he went straight asleep," Xander answered, "I guess the tonic Yin used was stronger than she planned."

"Not quite; you're just late."

Xander and Gerris turned to find Erret standing at a doorway, wearing a refined black shirt with long sleeves, grey pants, and an irritated glare.

"I was in blissful black sleep, moments ago. Then I heard Yin giggling like a madwoman and a red mist appeared," Erret sighed, "Perhaps inviting a mind high on hemomancy wasn't the best play."

"She's your girlfriend."

"She can do as she pleases. I hoped you'd plan around that."

"Fair enough."

Xander looked around, trying to find a trace of Yin. A giggle and a content sigh echoed off the dream walls, but she was nowhere to be seen. Erret crossed his arms.

"Do you know how to find her?"

"No, but with a blood high I doubt she'd be able to process my words anyway," Xander sighed, "How did I not consider... anyway, we'll just have a quick meeting to give you a run down of my plan, then I'll wait for Yin to get sober before telling her. I'll send you to proper sleep after."

"After you tell Yin?"

"Sorry?" Xander shook his head as he noted his mistake, "Oh, no, before."

"Ah, my brother in sleep deprivation."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Another echo of a sigh rattled through the doorway, so Erret closed it off to preserve some of his lover's dignity. With a spark of indigo-blue flame, Xander conjured an Earth couch and table. Gerris took his seat and quickly started the conversation.

"So, correct me if I'm wrong, we have little less than a week to try find a contact to the Mage Rebellion," Gerris said, "We know they'll be hiding from local authorities... I take it you have a plan, Xander?"

"Indeed I do. I have a few plans, actually, which all revolve around a single concept."

"Which is?"

"In this scenario, the Mages are rats, and we don't have or want aid from local exterminators. With that in mind, how do we find them?" Xander paused, then answered his rhetoric, "We make them come to us."

Light formed on the table, making up a model of the carriage they currently slept in. To the side of it was a darker shade with arm blades; Nocturne.

"Plan A is in effect right now, and involves this gaudy contraption," Xander motioned to the carriage, "I can give you the text later, but in summary Sylas and his rebels have been known to attack nobles. Many minor aristocrats have mysteriously disappeared in transit, even with full escorts on carriages."

"So you picked a carriage that exemplifies everything wrong with Demacian aristocracy to use as bait," Gerris noticed.

Xander nodded, "Yes. This carriage being made of petricite wood only helps to this end; they'll be pissed to see petricite flaunted around and-"

"They won't see your magic coming when they attack," Gerris finished.

"I was going to say it'd provide protection against their magic attacks, but that works too," Xander replied, then motioned to the dark-blue shade on the table, "You may be wondering why Nocturne's trailing behind. The answer is... well..."

"We're asleep. You need his help to cover us," Erret assumed, though his tired monotone voice hid his doubt well.

And there wasn't reason for doubt anyway, "Yes. Nocturne being around makes our mission easy. If a mage party attacks, we capture one mage, run like hell, then later Nocturne looks through their mind for more info."

"And if it's Sylas himself?"

"Then we capture Sylas and run like hell," Xander smiled, "I have many words for him... and a direct talk just might get him to cool down."

Gerris was silent for a moment, then nodded, "Sounds good. But you mentioned other plans. Do you wish to share?"

"There are quite a few, so I'll just mention the most and least risky plans, the latter being something I planned to do regardless of the mission," Xander replied, "But first, the risky option: I interrogate one of the local soldiers, or better yet, a local Mageseeker. Steal their work to further our own... I don't think I need to explain the risk."

"You don't," Gerris sighed, "And the less risky one?"

Xander turned his glance to Erret, "Say, what do you think are in the crates up top?"

Gerris rolled his eyes, "Can't you just say the damn thing..."

Erret paused, blinked, then widened his eyes. "Oh. You..."

The saboteur chuckled, "I don't suppose those songs you "heard about" in Noxus were Earth songs, were they?"

Gerris gaped when he caught on, "Are you seriou-"

"I'm a thief, and I keep what I steal," Xander pointed a finger to his head, "But, its not like I claimed ownership. I really did hear it from a friend! And it's not like Earth's copyright laws will be enforced when the planet either doesn't exist or is a smoking ruin somewhere."

Erret snorted, "Well okay, your side gig as a bard is making a comeback... I hate that I'm asking, but why are there so many crates?"

"Just in case. I know you and Gerris can drum decently, and Yin's pretty decent with a lute."

"That was a one-time gig in Piltover."

"She impressed middle and high-class citizens in the City of Progress! She can surely impress a bunch of farmers with mud in their ears," Xander reasoned, "And besides, bringing in you lot's a hypothetical end point. I'm not even sure if Demacian ears appreciate Earth music."

Gerris raised a hand, "Wait, hold on, how would Earth music bait out Demacian mages?"

"Relatable topics. Wealth gap was absurd back home; many songs were rants against the establishment. Pick out a few tame ones, note the room's mood, follow up on the would-be revolutionaries," Xander grinned, "And, well, I'll admit, I'd be doing this regardless. Seeing how Earth media is consumed here is an interest of mine."

Erret sighed, "Well, if we reach that state, you're asking Yin, not me. Now, will that be all?"

Xander shrugged, "To thy slumber thee may go."

Erret rolled his eyes and left the way he came.

Gerris glanced at Xander, "That probably didn't last long in reality. What're you going to do now? I mean, you said we'd be taking a short nap, not blinking..."

"I'm going to get some rehearsals in, just in case. You want anything?"

"I wouldn't mind a nap, but... hm, can you fight people in a dream?"

Xander shrugged, "How do you think I got so skilled so quickly? Every three nights hitting the grind. So, who do you want?"

Gerris pinched his chin in thought, "... you mentioned you met Viscero in Demacia?"

"Xin Zhao?" Xander chuckled, "Well, when you wake up, you can tell Lady Elia that you suffer from trauma from wars in the Frejlord... or something."

"He's that good?"

"I can only beat him a third of the time," Xander smirked, "Good luck."

* * *

To Xander's surprise, the ride to Meltridge was uneventful. Perhaps it was good luck; they didn't have an escort, with only a handful of men to carry cargo, the carriage staff, Lady Elia, and his team on board. Xander still had faith they'd have won a hypothetical fight, but with the wildcard that was Sylas, and most of the men not being mages... it would be close. But, he had been hoping for some action. Not to mention, had they been attacked, they'd immediately have a thread to pull for finding the Mage Rebels. So, perhaps it was bad luck, actually.

_Can't expect anything on the first day, I suppose..._

They arrived in a rather high-class inn; at least, as high-class as an inn run by peasants could be. The wooden floor was relatively clean, and only some parts of the first floor smelled of alcohol. Of course, it seemed the previous night - or morning? - was quite a party, given that two men sat in a corner, passed out. If Xander was correct, they seemed to both be Demacian soldiers. But, the telltale armour plates were missing, and blue pants - and other clothing items, for that matter - were common in Demacia.

"Be back here by sunset," Xander ordered, "We can plan whether to scout or sleep over dinner."

"We'll be here earlier," Gerris answered with a smile, "Lady Elia mentioned that us hired hands won't be working much this afternoon. We'll be waiting for you."

"How pleasant," Yin commented, before shining her eyes for Erret, "Erret, could you unpack for me?"

"Just don't complain if I get your set-up wrong," Erret grinned. His lover traded one in kind.

As the lovers all but displayed public affection, Gerris elbowed Xander, "Hmm, they fessed up pretty quick."

"We knew from the start. They probably realised there was no need for secrecy," Xander replied.

"Huh. How familiar..." Gerris posed pensively, then smirked at Xander.

"... Ok, fair..." Xander shook his head, "I'll see if I can get a performance set up. Tell Yin and Miss de Recht to wait for me if I'm not back in a while."

"I'll be heading out in a bit? You can Miss-de-Recht them yourself... Get it?"

"Well done: you made a joke without referencing genitalia."

Xander snorted, and walked off. Approaching the counter of the inn - a polished stone table with mugs and barrels stacked atop it - Xander called for an attendant. A wiry man appeared. Despite the telltale signs of age marring him, the bartender spotted a jovial smile and the energy of a small child.

"Welcome to the Misty Ridge," the man greeted, "I'm Hartley. What can I get for you?"

"Get me a pick-me-up; any will do; it's been a long ride."

"Could be longer," Hartley replied, glancing over Xander's shoulder. His eccentric mood seemed to drop slightly, "...What's your association with the Lady o'er there?"

Xander shrugged and smiled, "New employee. She has business here, me and mine follow."

"Lady de Recht usually stocks up here if she needs a trip to the capital," Hartley spoke with the slightest sense of suspicion as he stirred a spirit, "She going there any time soon?"

"Two weeks ahead, I believe," Xander replied as the bartender passed him a drink. After a swig, the Left Hand asked a question of his own, "How long've you known Lady de Recht?"

"About a twenty years, I think," Hartley said, "Don't know her well, she's not very social. Basic business, nothing more..."

"Icy, would you say?"

"... Huh, never thought of it that way. But yeah, she is icy..."

Xander shrugged, then took a swig, "Pretty good stuff. Oh, and I forgot to mention, I'm Imuren."

"Well, thanks Imuren. Imuren..." Hartley weighed the name on his tongue, "Imuren, Imuren... doesn't sound Demacian. Where're you from?"

"Arbormark," Xander said, "And before you ask, yes, I've read up on the Laws of Stone."

"You best have! This kingdom isn't safe for you lot... actually I'd say it isn't safe for anyone right now..."

"So I've heard; though I'd argue that nowhere in the world is safe," Xander replied, "I mean, my people are closer to Noxus than yours; with your internal strife, a few of my friends at the walls are anxious..."

"Didn't consider that," Hartley chuckled, "Good thing about working the job, I suppose. Always learning."

"We're always learning; you just have more exposure to new sources of info."

"Quite wise for a young lad," Hartley notes, "How many years have you got?"

"25," Xander lied. He didn't include his Earth years, and he rounded up one for his Runeterran ones, "But, traveling around doing business, I have more exposure than you do."

"Is that so?" Hartley reached for his own drink, "We had another one of you Arbormark fellows a while back. The name Arjen mean anything to you?"

It meant many different things. As chief advisor to a kingdom on the border, Xander had been given a few reports on the man. A relatively respected commander as strong physically as he was with his magic, Arjen Brambleguard was a threat to be noted.

More important, however, was the Arbormark advisor's associates in Demacia.

"I've heard good things of the chief advisor," Xander said, "Never met him, though."

"He was wise too. And big!" Hartley laughed, "He and an envoy stocked up here before sailing to the capitol. Apparently the envoy and a few men will be back soon."

Hartley's eyes lost their glint. Xander knee why, but pressed in regardless.

"And?"

"A couple Mageseekers were part of the envoy. Including one who abducted a mage from this village," Hartley took a sip of his drink, "Such a tragedy. Her mother's been in a sorry state ever since..."

Xander agreed, sighing, "Sounds... rough."

Xander recalled the details from the story he had read. The lass presumably had corralled the whole town to her side in an attempt to assassinate the Mageseeker. If not for a few defusing words from possibly the only non-bigot in the Demacian army, she'd have succeeded, and two fools would be turned unicorns by way of crossbow bolt.

Xander noticed something in the corner of his eye, and grinned. A new, less depressing topic.

_Maybe I really am lucky._

The Left Hand's gaze focused to a corner of the inn, where a rather impressive contraption lay. He pointed a finger towards it.

"Is that a piano?"

"Piano, is it? Mm, that sounds about right," Hartley replied, "Apparently, my great-grandfather impressed some travelling noble, so they bought him one. My grandfather died as a soldier before he could teach my dad, so I never learned how to use it. But, some of my patrons do. Part of how the Ridge's still earning."

Hartley paused, a toothy smile creeping on his face, "In fact, we have a music night today. There are still a few slots open; care to join?"

Xander's smile rivaled the eccentric bartender's, "I'd be happy to. Would you like a demonstration?"

A different voice answered him, "I'd love one, Imuren."

Xander flinched at Lady Elia's whisper in his ear. The off-guard shock disappeared quickly, however, and the Left Hand grimaced our of irritation over fear.

"If I'm not getting drunk on the job, neither are you," The lady of Sharpstone said.

"It was a short break," Xander replied, not turning around and keeping eye contact with Hartley, "Shame about that. Can I get the slot, though?"

"In the musical arts, you nobles outclass us commoners. I can give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Thanks, though I must say, I'm a merchant, not a noble."

"Imuren..." Lady Elia warned.

"I'll be seeing you around. I won't disappoint, Hartley!"

By the time he was standing, Xander was practically getting pulled by the ear out of the inn. After waving goodbye, Hartley started rinsing his mug; until the upcoming night, that'd be all the Left Hand saw if him.. Only when he was out did Xander swat away Elia's hand.

"Rude," Xander snidely said, "I was getting info."

"You may have your mission, but I have an appointment with a local lord, so sorry if I'm a bit eager to go," Elia rebuked.

Behind her, Yin stood, shaking her head, "For shame, Xan. For shame."

Xander sighed, "Fine, my bad. Shall we go?"

"That would be ideal."

Lady Elia's meeting was at the town center, where the Demacian military presence was increased. Lady de Recht explained that a local Laurent officer requested stores from her to combat local mages. Yin commented that the Lady of Sharpstem's business seemed convenient; she corrected Yin, summarizing the past events with hushed, barely noticeable tones. Through it all, Xander ignored them. After all, he knew the issues.

Townsfolk seemed wary of the armored men on horses, and he could've sworn one spat at a banner when no-one was looking. Likewise, the hard grays in the soldiers' eyes indicated that they were prepared to torch the town of peasants if they dared rise against their charge. Or, perhaps that was his biases speaking. Regardless, Xander reflected that this was the scene he had spoken of all those days ago. The stench of paranoia emanated from every soul in Meltridge.

It only dissipated slightly when they entered the town hall. Even as the largest building in the town, it was only about half the size of House Sharpstem. The internals seemed older, though bits and pieces seemed refurbished and renovated. Eventually, they passed over creaky stairs and through an aging ornate door, finding themselves face to face with their contact.

Gold hair with a stylized black strand, grey-blue eyes, and a cocky smile. _Yup, this is a Laurent._

The not-French accent only confirmed it, "Good afternoon, Miss Elia."

"Lady Elia, please. Your family gave me the title, you might as well use it."

"Yes, yes, Lady Elia," the Laurent brushed her off, placing a piece of parchment by the table, "Firstly, to claim last month's tax?"

Elia sat in the seat before her, took the feather and ink to her side, and signed. A poised glance was sent to the Laurent scion.

"That is the end of that transaction... what else have you summoned me for?"

"Demacia stands on the precipice, my dear," the Laurent's false smile faded, "Blood in the capitol; towns in rebellion, threatening to kill their protectors; mages in the forests..."

"I am already aware of these things. Do not waste my time."

"But it is my time to waste," the Laurent smirked, let silence stay for a moment, produced another sheet from his coat, then continued, "Regardless, the crown asks for another tax, so that the current crisis may be dealt with swiftly."

"A tax? Now?" Elia raised a pen as she glanced at the new sheet below her, "The country threatens rebellion, and the prince seeks to further bankrupt his citizens?"

"The ones who can afford payment shall do so, for the good of the country," the Lauren scion elaborated, "Your mercantile accounts surely could share their contents?"

Elia signed the new sheet, predicting a third to come, "There is more, no?"

"There is. The crown knows of your mineral imports to the rest of the world. Including your trading of petricite to Piltover," there was a curious glint in the Laurent Scion's eyes, yet he wore a somber frown, "The crown insists you divert all of your petricite to them."

"All of it..." Elia spoke in a clipped tone, "Much income comes from this trade. Income that helps my lands grow."

"We are dealing with mages. Controllers of fire and earth and wind. Petricite is the only thing that can protect us from them," the Laurent scion feigned concern, "I understand that your people benefit from your House's special trade, but if we can't stop those monsters, your people won't live to enjoy those benefits."

To his side, Xander noticed Yin tense up.

"...Will my people be compensated?" Elia asked.

"Once the crisis is averted, the crown has promised to all their due."

Lady de Recht glanced once more at the sheet, then sighed. With slow deliberation, the matron of Sharpstem signed the third sheet. The smile that the Laurent scion sported reached from ear to ear.

"Excellent," his voice was a fine oil, "The crown appreciates this sacrifice, I assure you."

"There's more, though, isn't there," Elia scowled, "Lets not waste more time. Get on with it."

"Well, your lands hold a few iron mines..."

Xander exhaled as Yin practically radiated hostility.

The Laurent Scion paused and turned his gaze to the Noxians.

"And who might these two be?"

"Apprentices of mine," Elia answered, "They are the children of an Arbormark merchant who is indebted to me. They are here to learn under my tutelage."

"Arbormark... are they mages?"

It seems the nerves were getting to Yin.

"We have read the Laws of Stone, my lord," she blurted out before looking to the floor in shame. For what, Xander had a few guesses.

"We know better than to use our abilities."

The Laurent scion stepped from behind the table, hand drifting to the scabbard at his wrist. He looked down on Yin with a sneer, before looking to Xander.

"We seek no trouble," the Left Hand replied, "We have abided by the laws of your land, and will do so for as long as we stay within it."

The Left Hand and the scion glared at each other in tense silence. Idly, Xander noted Elia and Yin tense up behind him. Regardless, he glared. The scion eventually relented, but not without the final word.

"Your sister knows her place. Learn from her."

The Scion returned to his place behind the table and sat once more.

"Apologies, my lady-"

"I believe that a short break is needed," Elia said, "By your leave...?"

The Laurent scion swallowed a frown, then sneered, "Go on then, my lady."

They quickly obliged.

* * *

"You didn't control yourself."

"I know, I know," Yin scowled, "How you didn't is beyond me."

The sun finished its setting as they walked. After a few hours of negotiations, the Laurent Scion had called the meeting off for the night. Neither Yin note Xander were looking forward to the next day. The latter sighed.

"I've had my experiences with aristocrats looking down on me," the Left Hand said, "And, I wasn't in danger either."

"You'll both have to do better," Elia noted, "It doesn't matter where they think you're from if you implicate yourself as a mage. Even if you're not."

Yin made to spoke but quickly shut up. There weren't many people in the streets, but it didn't hurt to be more careful. Especially after her last blunder.

"Well, I suppose I can share a tip. Just imagine the terrible ways you'd like to kill that arrogant shit," Xander shrugged, "Certainly helped with LeBlanc."

Elia raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"

Yin made to step in, but Xander was shameless, "I don't need to do it now. Swain and I big-brained your Matron _hard_. Now, all I need to do is remember the look on her face. Heh, teach that bitch to pull a death curse on me."

Before a magic brawl could ensue, Yin cut the conversation off, "Hey, look, we're here!"

They were, indeed, here. In the dark blue twilight, the candlelight emanating from the Misty Ridge looked almost like Earth lamps. The music and laughter and whine of talk certainly reminded Xander of night clubs. The feeling only intensified as they walked in. The atmosphere felt like hot steam after a trek in the snow. It was oddly homely.

Gerris and Erret sat by the corner with mugs of beer, immersed in the setting.

"Welcome back," Gerris greeted, "How was business."

"Shit," came the short reply of Yin as she sat by her lover's side.

As the hemomancer explained to the rest of the team, Lady Elia tapped Xander's shoulder.

"I'll be retiring now. Don't make too much trouble; it won't look good on any of us if one of you two is missing tomorrow."

"Sure, enjoy your beauty sleep."

As Elia rose up the stairs to her room, Xander made to sit down by his team. He never did, for a familiar voice called him over.

"Oi, Imurin! Imurin!"

"Who's that?" Erret asked.

"I'd say my contact, but there's no links yet," Xander mentioned, "Maybe he's decided against my performance."

"I'll have to buy him a drink then," Yin noted, "My ears have been through a lot..."

"Da-rude... hey, Erret, you going to let that slide?"

"Me? Compared with that geezer?" Erret laughed, "I'm confident I can keep my lover in check."

Xander rolled his eyes and walked off. The poser in question had changed little since their last encounter. Hartley sported an apron, and his sleeves seemed a bit wet. That, and his eyes seemed... guilty? Xander frowned, but approached.

"Imurin, right?"

"Imu _ren_ , yes," Xander replied, a wary tone in his voice, "... now, Hartley, have I lost my spot?"

"Oh, hardly," Hartley'sanswer came with an awkward laugh, "It's... well, you're good, I think, but-"

"Just get to the point," Xander sighed.

"Alright... I'm offering for you to not follow through with your performance."

_Interesting._ Xander's eyes narrowed, and the Left Hand allowed a dangerous glint to enter his pupils.

"I was looking forward to playing. But, I'll forgo if necessary just..." Xander looked Hartley straight in the eyes, "Why?"

"Welll... its just that your slot is right after the best performer I've got," Hartley shrugged awkwardly, "Wouldn't want the new guy to get shown up."

Xander released his killer glare and snorted jovially, "Really? That's it? Well, thanks for the offer... wait, why not just put me in a slot before her?"

"They were all filled up."

"... a switch?"

"There's only one person left before she plays, and she insisted that the person before her be a friend. He's currently playing. Their performances line up, apparently."

"Well... ok, how about this? I've got time before then to make my decision. How about I stick around and listen to her sing before I choose to forgo my spot?"

Hartley sighed, then relented, "Alright. Can do. Just stick around. Don't want too much time between performances."

"Fair enough."

And so he sat. As he listened to the tune of the runner up - who used a violin rather than the available piano - his eyes followed Hartley closely. The bartender approached a woman in a cloak sitting on her own by the counter. With her hood down, Xander could see a short crop of brown hair with blue eyes dark like the ocean. The singer looked at him with what he thought was a competitive smirk. Hartley whispered in her ear, and she replied with an amused smile. Xander shook his head; he'd had enough of pride today.

A familiar presence approached, "So what did he say? You just not good enough?"

"Yes and no..." Xander replied to Gerris, "Apparently, the person before me is the greatest musician in all of creation, so the innkeeper doesn't want me to embarrass myself. I've reserved the right to still try if I want, so for now I'll see just how good she is."

"She? You've met?" Gerris raised a teasing eyebrow.

"No. Just followed the innkeeper who told her about me," Xander replied, not having looked away from his supposed rival, "I suppose I don't have to worry about being beat by innuendo; she looks charming enough to not need that."

Gerris laughed, "Lets see. Maybe she'll be worse than you are!"

"What do you mean? I'm hardly a sailor; I swear an average amount."

"Samira and five mugs of beer say otherwise."

"It's not my fault that hag's the culmination of two hundred years of shit gameplay design. Or hers, for that matter."

"...Gameplay desi- Wait, she was a character in League of-"

"Yes, and she ruined a shit ton of promos for me. But let's not get to that now."

The singer rose from her seat at the counter, leaving the cloak there. She proudly strut to the piano, clad in a medieval dress that looked to have been stripped of its sleeves by an amateur. Regardless, it was a unique fashion choice in the otherwise normal medieval setting; he'd give her that.

"Here she goes."

Gerris chuckled, "Lets see you eat your words."

"I haven't even said-"

"Shh, the shows starting."

The woman sat by the piano and gave Xander a final glance. The smirk on her face faded, replacing itself with a somber look and closed eyes. The runner up raised his violin and prepared to play. A few claps and cheers from regulars came from the audience, but they soon stopped when the first chord hit.

Xander's breath followed when the first verse left the woman's lips.

_"As a child, you would wait and watch from far away... but you always knew you'd be the one to work whilst they all played..."_

"Impossible," the Left Hand whispered.

Gerris chuckled, "Guess she beat y-"

Xander elbowed him with a glare, "Shut. The hell up. I'm trying to listen."

_"Here we are, don't turn away now... WE are the warriors that built this town..."_

Cheers and claps, this time in tune, rose again in the audience. The chorus repeated with a crescendo.

_"Here we are, don't turn away now... WE are the warriors that built this town... From dust."_

More chords promised aural bliss; a promise soon fulfilled. The runner up went to work with a rapid violin arrangement punctuated by the woman's chords. A part of Xander had hoped the woman was a "normie"; that she knew only of the song's first incarnation. But, the slow, deliberate chords followed by intense, war-like rhythms confirmed to him that she _knew_. As the arrangement dropped to low, dramatic whispers, Xander made to move for Hartley. Gerris grabbed his arm.

"Xander, what's going on?"

"Let me go-"

"Xander-"

"She's like me. Is that enough?"

The statement stunned Gerris, giving Xander a chance to pull free. As Xander walked off, the show went on.

_"Here we are, don't turn away now... WE are the warriors that built this town..."_

The violinist played his heart out once again, his melody given backbone by timed claps from the audience and chords from the singer. She too gave her all as the final chorus hit.

_"WE are the warriors that built this town..."_

_"From dust."_

The inn exploded into cheers and applause. Xander was thankful; it gave him chance to approach Hartley undetected. Yet, his mind raced, and the noise did not give him chance to clearly think. He froze when he reached Hartley, and by the time he rebooted and decided on an action, Hartley had approached him. The cheers continued, giving them chance to speak.

"You seem rather shaken," Hartley joked, "There'll be another night four days from now."

"I..."

For the first time in a while, Xander was tongue-twisted. There was no action here that was purely beneficial, he reasoned. He could sing now, and risk an incident between him and the woman, or simply his song bombing. He could forgo his performance, letting the woman go, perhaps never to be seen again. And with more than the mission at stake...

Looking over Hartley's shoulder, Xander saw the woman. A light blush covered her face, presumably from the cheers she'd earned. She had a smile on her face, not at all arrogant, almost sincere. There were still cheers, which the runner up absorbed with grace and humility behind her. She, meanwhile, approached from behind Hartley.

"This is the guy after me?" she asked, then shook her head with a sad smile, "Sorry to go all out; kinda got into it."

"No, it's not..." Xander exhaled, attempting to catch his breath. He decided to give a compliment before continuing, "You were wonderful. I didn't expect such a good song..."

"It was nothing," the woman said with mixed emotions. Guilt seemed to be one of them, among others, "I could speak to the audience; I'm quite respected here. Or maybe we could do a duet? Me and Cheston know a few songs..."

"No, no, it's fine..."

The woman frowned, "... I was interested seeing what you could do. You seemed set to perform."

Even Hartley seemed invested, "You could still choose to go. It's up to you."

Xander breathed in again, considered his options... and smiled. Of the options before him, there was one that was far riskier. It promised more joy regardless, however. And it wasn't as though he couldn't have Nocturne follow up on his target if she left early... There were only so many minds in Meltridge for the nightmare entity to scan; and if he was right, one would shine brighter than the others.

_Fuck it. Let's do this._

As he straightened up, he glanced over to Gerris, and saw concern on his face. He clearly could see the cogs working in the Left Hand's head. Xander's smile widened before rising to a short chortle. He shook his head, turning to Hartley and the performers.

"I'll do it," Xander declared.

"You will?" the woman's competitive smirk returned, "Show me what you got then!"

"Oh, I will..."

The inn had grown silent during their discussions, but a few whispers rose as Xander approached. He took his seat and tested the keys as he gave a foreword.

"That was quite a performance before me," Xander admitted, "I'm a bit new here, so I doubt I'll be able to match it. But, if you give a listen, I'll make sure your time's worth it."

The crowd seemed to accept him, but a comment from the runner up (who had taken a front row seat) cemented their approval.

"Go, new guy!" "Yeah, go new guy!"

Xander chuckled. Before the crowd could start a chant, he sat before the piano.

"Alright. Now, what to play..." Xander whispered to himself. 70s hits, another League song? No... he was feeling 2015...

He let his fingers play a few notes, teasing the audience, "This song... I heard it a while back from a friend. He had this little band... Forgot the name of it though. But this song, man was it great. Memorable, I'd say..."

Xander played the introductory notes and heard the crowd make noises of awe and interest. the Left Hand's view, however, was on the singer before him. Perhaps it was a dick move to telegraph that he knew what she did in the way he was, but, again... _Fuck it._ 'Twas a long day, and he'd get his kicks in. He hummed the introductory notes as he repeated them.

_"Some legends are told... some turn to dust or to gold..."_

He glanced up, and found the woman's face pale, with widened eyes. Impossibly, Xander felt his smile widen. He really _w_ _as_ an asshole.

_"But you will remember me... remember me for Centuries..."_

And Xander _sang._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I'm gonna be doubling down on the references. I got a licence with Xander revealing his past, and I'm going to abuse it with this recent development...
> 
> As always, leave a comment; I appreciate the feedback.


	6. Chapter 6

It was easy to lose focus in the Misty Ridge. Filled with jovial people even in slow hours, the inn was loud and had an atmosphere unique to it. During peak hours, the stench of alcohol and sweat and the sound of song and dozens of voices in different conversation made it hard to even think. Yet, her mind was sharp like a blade's edge. It had to be, because of the unknown elephant in the room.

The new performer.

The new performer Hartley told her about seemed pleasant. Olive skin and black hair reminded her of Asians back on Earth, though she wasn't aware that phenotype existed in Demacia. When he had arrived, he wore the expression of irritable common after a hard day's work. She saw that he had a hard jawline and grey eyes that spoke of experience; perhaps he'd gotten just off of deployment. But, Hartley spoke praises about his wisdom; the bartender noted a close, open relationship with the friends he rode in on. Of course, included in this circle was the lady of a local house; that should've been the red flag. But, instead, she let her guard down and now was caught by an impossibility.

After soaking up the applause from the half-sober crowd for his performance of Centuries by _frickin'_ Fall Out Boy, the bastard walked up to her with a shit eating grin that screamed "I know you know." Granted, her competitive nature prompted earlier Cheshire Cat smiles earlier, so karma was likely due. But still, to this extent? To drop such a massive bombshell on her life?

As he approached, the questions filled her mind. Who was he? What was he doing here? Was he hunting her, and if so, for what reason? Was he actually _from_ Earth?

The performer stopped before her, a smile on his face as he asked, "What'd you think?"

She flinched, then felt her face frown, despite the all-consuming rage in her chest. Was she shaking? It didn't matter, she was going to-

Cheston answered the question for her, "You did great! It's actually interesting, you know; your style of singing seems similar to-"

Actually, Cheston only _tried_ to answer.

She stood up and stuck a finger in the new performer's chest, "You-"

The words got stuck in her mind again, so she paused, exhaled, the continued with a deadly whisper, "You are going to tell me where you heard that song."

The performer gave that grin she was getting more irritated by, "I'd be happy to. Just... quieter? You're making a scene."

She glanced and found a few eyes turned their way. Some of the Ridge's regulars chuckled to themselves, others turned away at her gaze. She grumbled and turned her attention to the performer. Cheston stood up and pulled a stool for the performer, who took it gladly.

"Are... are you two exes?" Cheston asked, apprehensive.

"Hardly; we just met," the performer said.

Cheston narrowed his eyes, "I didn't catch your name. Who are you?"

"Imuren Sha, once of the Arbormark," the performer introduced himself, "I now serve House Sharpstem, as assistant to its lady. Perhaps in time I may become heir..."

"Arbormark? Are you..."

"Cheston, he's like me," She cut in, "...Not just in that way. He... he's also like me in _that_ way."

Cheston paused to think, then gaped, "You weren't lying?"

"No, I wasn't! Why do you think I'm losing it right now?"

All the while, the performer - Imuren - chuckled to himself.

Cheston closed his mouth, glanced around, then asked, "Should... I be here?"

Imuren shrugged in her direction, "Your call. Though I must say, you'll likely be confused at some stuff if you stick around."

Eventually, she nodded. The performer pointed to a group of people sitting at the back - likely his friends - then sent Cheston off. He sighed, then sat down.

"I suppose I should apologize for my display there," were the first words he said.

"What would you be referring to?" She asked.

"Not telling you in advance?" The performer chuckled, "You... heh, you seemed half ready to shit yourself when I hit that chorus."

"I've had a stressful past few days."

"I'll take your word for it," Imuren replied, "Though at least for me, this makes it worth it. I mean, did you think you'd meet someone from Earth again?"

"... I don't know what to think. I've lived here for so long, and... Earth comes to mind so rarely. It's like... I don't know..."

"A half remembered dream?"

"...yeah, that sounds about right," she sighed.

As Imuren spoke, she realized just how paranoid she had become. That didn't make the concept of simply thinking about her predicament any easier, but lashing out was clearly not the right play. She sat on her words for a moment before calling Hartley over.

He gave the new performer the slightest stink eye, "You haven't been causing any problems, have you?"

The performer shrugged with an awkward laugh, "Maybe a little? I promise, I meant no harm."

She ignored them both, "Hartley, something hard, please. I think I'll need it for tonight."

Imuren frowned, "With our subject matter, I don't think that wise..." he chuckled briefly, "I'd hate to have to explain everything to you with a post-blackout hangover."

"Maybe something to cool the nerves?" Hartley offered.

The two singers nodded. After a brief show of mixing alcohol, Hartley handed the two their drinks. He leaned closer than usual.

"Do you two need a private space?" he asked.

"This isn't... business," she replied, "But I think that'd be good."

He nodded, "The storage room has a few tall barrels if you need desks."

"Thanks."

She stood up with her drink, "New guy, with me."

"I have a name, you know," came the reply.

"So you do," she said, "Now come on."

The performer followed her to the back room, where spare alcohol was kept in boxes filled with glasses, massive kegs, and even a small cabinet with wine inside. As she closed the door behind her, the atmosphere of the Misty Ridge faded to silence. Turning back, she found him on a stool raising his mug to her, offering a toast.

"Well, don't leave me hanging."

After a pause, she toasted him and drank.

"My name is Aislynn, but just call me Lynn," she introduced, "And, to be clear, that wasn't my name on Earth."

"Figured. Can't think of someone I knew with that name back home. Then again, I did live in Asia," the performer said, "Name's Imuren, though you already know that. And no, that isn't my Earth name either."

He set down his mug and smiled. Perhaps it was meant to be comforting, but to Aislynn it came off arrogant yet again. She looked at him cooly.

"Well, Aislynn, what would you like to know?"

* * *

_As it turns out, expecting something on the first day was perfectly reasonable. And I say I'm unlucky..._

It took damn near all of Xander's self control to not laugh with glee. Even in Hartley's storage room, he suspected he'd wake he whole town. But could he blame himself? Aislynn was everything he was looking for. She seemed popular in the community, meaning she held influence; her closeness with Hartley, enough to trust her with a private room, implied local connections; and her talk with Cheston suggested that she indeed was a mage. It was hardly confirmed, but with how his luck was going and how Aislynn seemed to act, it wouldn't surprise him if she was a leader of a local Rebel Sect.

All of that without counting their shared origins!

But, the time for rejoicing wasn't now. It seemed the other reincarnate wasn't as keen to make bonds. Perhaps paranoia born of leading a rebellion? With slight effort and a sip of alcohol, Xander turned a stupidly goofy grin to a reserved, calm smile. The path to a total victory would be given to him shortly, he believed.

"Well, Aislynn, what would you like to know?" He started.

Aislynn was stone-faced and silent for a moment, before melting to curiosity and asking her first question.

"Probably not the most useful, but... who _were_ you?"

"No one interesting or influential," Xander replied after short consideration, "I believe the term 'nerd' would be a perfect description. And not even for useful things, like Physics or engineering..."

"Mhm..." Aislynn glanced at him warily, "I was hoping for a name..."

"Ah... I'll share mine if you share yours."

"You first."

"...Thomas Asper. T-H-O-M-A-S. A-S-P-E-R."

Aislynn pondered his old name and nodded, "Ashley Woods. I don't think I need to spell that out."

Xander snorted, "No, indeed. Well, I suppose it doesn't matter; we have new names now."

Aislynn - or was it Ashley? - narrowed her eyes, "You'd throw away your past so quickly?"

"I hold on enough to pay homage," Xander answered, "After all, I may claim to uphold Demacian ideals, but the truth is I uphold ideals born on Earth; Demacia only shares them."

Aislynn raised a wary eyebrow, "...Fair enough."

Xander smiled, "Indeed. Now, if you don't mind a question on my end..."

"Are we trading them now?"

"Why not? Seems fair. I give one, you give one. Well, actually I ramble so you probably get a bit more."

"I had to tell you to give me your old name. After that you asked me for mine afterwards," Aislynn pointed out, "Now you're asking, so wouldn't you be ahead?"

"I would, but after you give your answer to the question, I'll give mine," Xander sighed, sipped, then spoke again, "As far as we know, we're the last remnants of Old Earth. There's no need to be so stiff with our conversation."

"Alright, fine. Shoot."

"...hmmm, let's see... Where did you live?"

"Land of the Free, Home of the Brave," Aislynn smiled bitterly, "The Once-United States of America. Fucking hell..."

Xander grimaced, "Terrible tragedy to see the great light of Western Civilization collapse in on itself."

Aislynn raised an eyebrow at Xander, but remained silent. Xander narrowed his gaze.

"What?"

"Were you a white supremacist?"

Xander's eyes widened, "Excuse me?!"

"Well, I mean, 'the great light of Western civilization'," Aislynn scoffed, "Western civilization wasn't great. It was downright terrible. Slaves, killing of minorities... There's a reason everyone was on the street protesting."

"True. Yet, saying the way it ended was tragic makes me a white supremacist how, exactly?"

Aislynn open her mouth to speak, was silent, frowned, then apologized, "Okay, maybe that was a bit much..."

Xander shook his head, "Yeah, you don't say?"

"I don't know, just, the way you said it... like, oh 'Western civilization', its as if everyone else is somehow inferior. And, I'm not sure if you realize this, but you come off like an arrogant asshole. Like those supremacists often are."

"A poor assumption with not even a hint of evidence, snowflake," Xander laughed, "That thinking was how Shapiro made it a debate."

Aislynn sent a glare at Xander, "Sorry, what was that?"

_Oh boy, just had to reignite..._

Xander shook his head and continued with a calm tone, "In my view, it should've been easy to discredit the Republicans, given the sheer absurdity their candidate gave off. But, snowflake problematics made Dems look like brats. And, rather than discuss your opinions and try convert them, you were all but as extreme as they were. You may not have killed any of them, at least, as far as I know... but the online sentiment was the same: you wanted everyone who disagreed with you gone, just as much as they wanted the same of you."

"Oh, so we weren't allowed defend ourselves?" the mage fired back.

"You could, but you have to realise: the image that was supposed to be that you're the calm, collected, reasonable group. Seeking not emotional judgement, but productive correction," Xander sighed, "Unfortunately, that never happened. I mean, you were practically looking for fights. And you weren't particularly consistent about it... but then again, I was a passive, outside observer, so how could I make judgement, right?"

Aislynn chewed the inside of her lip, clearly looking for a point to make. Before the situation could escalate, Xander continued.

"Every civilization has or had its brand of slavery, racism, and killings. Every system has its flaws, every person their skeletons. Judging civilizations on that metric seems rather nonsensical. After all, the Mongols, for all their conquests, were not the greatest or worst Earth had to offer."

Aislynn drank from her mug without breaking eye contact, "Well, fair enough... though, I have to ask, why do you hold 'Western civilization' in such high regard?"

"Is that how you wish to use your question?" Xander chuckled, "No, I'm fucking around, don't take that seriously..."

Xander pinched his chin pensively, then, "Ah, there's my reason. Well, reasons... in short, I think highly of western civilization because they started the Democracy trend. First with Athens, then again with your home country."

"Other countries developed free-er democracies afterwards."

"Indeed," Xander conceded that point with a smile, "By the end, America may have been a husk if it's former self. But, it started the rise of democracies; no longer would despots get away with invoking traditions, blood, or gods to get by. Viva la revolution, and all that. For being that spark, for being the face of secular democracy for the last three or so centuries of Earth... your old home has my admiration."

"That's fair...," Aislynn was quiet for a moment, then she smirked, "Your turn?"

Xander smiled, "I lived in Singapore in the last days. Nothing too interesting there... I mean, a tiny island wouldn't have stopped nuclear war. Kinda glad I got offed quickly; would've hated trying to have to survive for years, or even months, in a post-apocalypse world."

Aislynn nodded with a frown, "Aren't you a downer..."

Xander chuckled, "Tis a depressing, controversial topic. A somber tone is only appropriate."

Aislynn nodded with a sigh, "Yep... so, it's my turn now?"

"Ask away."

"Who are you now?"

Xander sighed, "You want my life story?"

Aislynn shrugged, "Your story to say."

_"Can I be trusted" is the real question. Fair enough..._

Xander smiled, "I'm Imuren Sha, son of the Arbormark merchant Kiren Sha, who recently fell into debt. He accepted aid from Lady Elia de Recht of House Sharpstem, who has accepted my sister and I as assistants. I suspect for this gift, my father will be assimilated into Lady Elia's industry coalition, but given that she's single and childless, that doesn't matter: my sister or I could become heirs to the House."

Aislynn raised an eyebrow, "Truly? Quite the life you've lived."

Xander chuckled, "You have no idea. There's a lot I'm missing out on, but I trust that as we... get to know one another I'll reveal it in time."

"That wasn't ominous at all."

"In case you haven't realized, I'm a dramatic little troll. But anyways, it is your turn..."

Aislynn seemed to shell up at this.

_Bingo. All but confirmed..._

Xander's tone rose with concern, "You don't need to share anything if you don't want to."

Aislynn opened her mouth to respond, but closed it quickly and nodded, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. But... it is my turn again," Xander smiled to himself, "I'll just go ahead and avoid the present, so... My question: what _did_ you do in your free time?"

Aislynn chuckled, "Well... normally I hanged out with friends and posted stuff on Tumblr. Also played games and watched YouTube, of course. In the last days, life was trying to salvage all that whilst the world burned."

"Mm," Xander dipped from his mug, "Did you read much?"

"All those Dystopia novels came in handy, I'll say."

"Damn, beat me to it."

Aislynn chuckled with Xander briefly before pausing, then continuing, "I, uh, may have gone on a few of the protests you may have heard."

"Why so shy about it?" Xander raised his mug in cheers, "You had the balls to rise up in a system where you had no power. Quite heroic, if I may say."

"You exaggerate," Aislynn shook her head with a smile, "It was..."

"Not as bad as _our_ current predicament?"

Aislynn froze. Xander fought to keep the smile down. _There it is,_ he thought.

"I mean, for all the shit that went down in America, at least they weren't overtly causing a genocide," Xander feigned ignorance of his target's reaction, "Those dystopian books... they more useful now?"

Aislynn stood quiet again, but quickly calmed herself. Her follow-up question was laced with a guarded tone, however, "Are you a mage?"

"You are, I suspect," Xander smiled, "Even if I wasn't, I'd mean no harm."

He leaned closer and filled his voice with his heart, "It's disgusting what's happening here. People need to be better, and not just the aristocrats. This is Demacia, the would-be moral center of Runeterra, and they're pulling a Nazi Germany? People have to rise up, I say."

After a pause, Aislynn smiled, "I'd drink to that."

And she would have, if there was still any alcohol between them. They clinked their mugs together and, in sync, drank, realized there was nothing, and frowned. Looking back at Xander, Aislynn gave an awkward chuckle.

"So, uh..."

"Oh well," Xander threw the mug behind him without a care, "Lets get back on topic, shall we?"

"Sure..." Aislynn raised eyebrow before continuing, "What did you do with your free time?"

Xander sighed in blissful remembrance.

"I was serving mandatory military service on work days, and my free time was spent playing League and doing digital art."

"Mandatory service and... League... League of Legends?"

"...yeah?"

"Ok, that was never my game, not that I played much at all... do you mind reminding me?"

Xander opened his eyes with barely contained surprise in his deadpan expression, "Huh?"

Aislynn snapped a finger twice, but she seemed to be struggling, "League, League... what was that... come on, help me out here!"

"Wait, wait, how do you not remember what League of Legends is? You literally just sang Warriors! And those were the 2WEI chords!"

"I'm sorry, I only played Minecraft; my parents didn't want me spending on-"

"League was Free-To-Play-" Xander facepalmed, then sent an incredulous glare at Aislynn, "Where did you hear it then?"

"W-well, I first heard Warriors from the original Imagine Dragons version-"

"Which was made for Worlds 2015, but ok..."

"I heard the dramatic, orchestral, 2WEI version from SAD-IST's-"

"SAD-IST's Dream SMP War animatic," Xander sighed and looked up to the ceiling, looking for salvation that wasn't there, "Of all the people who could've reincarnate with me into Runeterra, I get a normie Dream Stan."

"...uh..."

"I could've had two badass, lore-fanatic self-inserts, but nooo, that would be broken," Xander sighed then chuckled, "Oh who am I kidding, it's still great to meet another reincarnate; regardless of their... quirks."

"Appreciated, I guess..." Aislynn flinched in realization, "Wait, self-insert..."

"Yep. Demacia, Runeterra, the Mages and the King? All a fictional story back home; specifically, the story of League of Legends."

"I thought League didn't have a story," Aislynn squinted, "I heard it was just a multiplayer game."

"You've been lied to, then," Xander scoffed, "No, League had a story, and an expansive lore. Only it was on a separate website, so barely anyone knew."

"Huh. Damn shame, would've helped me here, that's for sure," Aislynn was silent for a moment before a smirk widened her lips, "Should I be calling you 'main character?'"

"Everyone's the main character of their story," Xander smiled, "Everyone has their own path, and it's a path they make. I just know the terrain better."

"How literate of you."

The room was filled with content silence. Xander observed his fellow Earthling, noting that her eyes seems more colorful. They flowed a vibrant sky blue for a moment, then faded to normal. Xander chuckled and responded in kind with his indigo.

Aislynn broke the silence, "Well, Xander, how have you been using that knowledge?"

Xander opened his mouth to respond, closed it, then chuckled awkwardly, "Not well, I'm sure you've noticed. You know, with the civil war still going on?"

"Cheat code not enough to speedrun the game?"

"It's hardly a cheat code. I'm playing this game for the first time, and I've only read a few wiki pages on set characters," Xander shrugged, "Though, to be fair, I'm playing a specific route. If I just wanted to be a kill-everything, conqueror player, the GGs would've popped up by now."

Aislynn crossed her arms with an amused smirk, "That so? I'll take your word for it... so what have you been doing, if not fixing Demacia's Nazi problem?"

Xander paused, thought, then guiltily said, "Stuff abroad... I could, and am willing to, explain those operations... but not here, not now."

Aislynn narrowed her eyes, "Why?"

Xander smiled, "For one, I think a dreamscape would aid tremendously."

Aislynn first gaped, then chuckled, "So, you are a mage. Like me."

"Exactly you," Xander confirmed.

Aislynn shook her head, "Why not just say that from the start?"

Xander said nothing, only smiling.

"Fuckin' troll."

Xander grinned, "Everyone loved Deadpool. I'm not an immortal, but I kinda have that 4th Wall breaking power here."

"So you're a shameless troll."

"Implying there are shameful trolls."

"Touché."

Xander sighed contently, "So... would you be up for a dre-"

With a smacking sound, the storage room door opened. The two dream mages stood to attention immediately, then, in sync, sighed. Held by his waist, a wasted Cheston faintly sang a song that, to Xander, sounded like A Small World. Slightly more sober than Cheston was the man holding him.

 _Gerris Ex Machina. What even_ is _my luck?_

"Cheston?" Aislynn stepped forward with blazing blue eyes, "Let go of him!"

As Gerris did (unceremoniously dropping Cheston to the floor) the singer slurred, "Hee's aa frieend..."

Still wary, Aislynn dropped to her knees to help her friend up, "What was that?"

"They're maaageeyyy," Cheston whispered, "I saw one make the other bleeed!"

"Bleed?" Xander paled as he helped Gerris sit on a crate. The ex-reckoner uselessly chortled to himself.

"That one guy kissed the girl with the brown hair, then she bled through her nose!"

Aislynn glanced to Xander with suspicion. The Left Hand of Noxus only snickered to himself.

"Oh, I am _not_ letting her live that down..."

Aislynn gave a soft smile, but her tone was deadpan as she spoke, "That's just an extreme reaction..."

"But they beat me in a drunken contesh!"

Cheston pointed a finger at Gerris, "You're maggy..."

Aislynn shrugged, then sent an analytical gaze to Xander, "Imuren, are we... you know, awake?"

Xander shook his head, "I don't know how your friend got drunk this quickly."

"Drinking is an intense sport!" Gerris boldly declared before delivering an unsightly burp, "Ah, and the best of the best put their hearts into it! Like Ermen, look at him go!"

The prompt of Erret's cover name got Xander to glance out of the storage room. The Left Hand beheld the strangest scene. The patrons of the Misty Ridge chanted "chug" around the table by which his team had sat. Only Yin took a seat now, a grand blush spreading to her shoulders as she giggled. Xander noticed a few red stains on her knuckles and chuckled himself, then gave a guffaw as he saw the center of attention. Chugging straight from a bottle as long as a shortsword was Erret: a monument to stupidity.

Gerris approached Xander from behind and whispered in his ear, "Heard yells. Seemed like you needed an out."

Xander rolled his eyes to keep appearances (he hoped it appeared as a reaction to a drunk slur) then addressed Aislynn, "That's a damn shame. I, uh, guess we'll need to reschedule?"

Aislynn held up Cheston with an over-shoulder carry and frowned, "Probably for the best. But why not tonight?"

"Have you tried long distance relationships?"

Xander narrowed his eyes with a teasing smirk, and hoped he wouldn't need to give more incriminating clues. They were still in public, after all.

Aislynn first squinted, confused, then shook her head.

"Haven't tried. Won't work out?" She guessed.

_Does she get it? Oh well, it works out._

"Not to my knowledge. I'll try meet you again earlier, but Hartley mentioned another music night this week?"

"Right! We can meet then!" Aislynn said as she trudged through the storage room door, Cheston in tow, "Until next time?"

Xander nodded, "Until we meet again."

Amidst waves, compliments, and clueless drunk people, Aislynn and her friend left the Misty Ridge. Xander and Gerris waded through the same to get to Erret and Yin. The Left Hand stole his subordinate's seat, leaving him standing.

"If you lean close to the table, you just might take a nap," Xander explained, "I'm not dragging your heavy ass to bed."

"I wouldn't sleep," Gerris spoke with an almost sober tone, "I'm only tipsy."

"You really aren't. You're definitely drunk," Yin corrected the reckoner.

"I'm still conscioushh," Gerris rebuked shamelessly, "Erret's the drunk one!"

Erret was, indeed, worse for wear. The saboteur snored loudly as he slept on his lover's shoulder. As Yin rebuked Gerris for missing Erret's cover name, Xander's gaze fell to the table. It wasn't as though the drunk patrons would notice the slip. What they would see, though, was the tall empty bottle that stood on their table; Erret had at least gone down in a blaze of glory.

"What a mess..." Xander chuckled.

"Some yells from your talk caught attention; we distracted," Yin reasoned; Xander noticed her blush, though faded, remained.

"So you guys took this chance to get smashed? We still have a work week ahead of us," Xander reminded.

"Ugh, don't remind me. But honestly, if I can forget about that Laurent shit I'd be happier."

"Mmm, agreed."

After brief interruption from semi-conscious Erret ("I'm a champion..."), Yin switched topics, "So how was your date?"

"Date? I think mutual interrogation would be a better term."

"People don't smile after being interrogated," Yin countered, "And she does seem nice."

"She does, but I'm not looking for love," Xander smiled, "I was looking for copper."

"Copper?"

"But then I found gold," Xander snickered.

Yin betrayed no emotion on her face, "...I'm assuming that's Earth humor."

Xander shook his head, and his tone turned gravelly, "You wouldn't get it."

He chuckled again, then continued, "Aaaanyway, all things considered this night's been an absolute success. I'll say right now; we got a lead, and likely a big one. Aislynn - the performer - is like me, cautious, and intelligent."

"You admit you're an idiot?"

"... like me, colon, cautious and intelligent."

"You're not cautious."

"A calculated risk is no risk at all," Xander shrugged, "The only problem is that we don't knowledge on where Miss Aislynn resides, but it's easily amended."

"Next music night, right?" Gerris recalled, "So we continue as usual for the next four days, then negotiations begin?"

"We could... but considering what she is I'm a bit impatient. And, why not, time is money."

"...oh," Yin paled, "No, that's a bad idea and you know it!"

"Perhaps. But, I have faith no feelings will be hurt," Xander smiled, "He was tame enough the last time, wasn't he?"

* * *

_What the hell happened last night?_

Aislynn's eyes opened as a chill traveled down her spine. Faced with the worn ceiling of her room, the dream mage could've sworn the cracks and edges were darker. The room, she then realized, was chillier than usual. It faded as quickly as it came, like a small animal shuffling away.

Rising from her cot with a headache, Aislynn groaned. The dull throb echoed in her head, and her mouth felt dry. After a brief scuffle, the performer found her waterskin and drank. She hadn't been drunk yesterday, had she?

She sat and silently pondered... then smiled. As her drink refreshed her mood, her memories returned as well. The new performer, their secret meeting... Aislynn giggled to herself.

_What are the odds another person from Earth would be here!_

She drank more as she recalled the details of their conversation. Of course, having another Earthling would be nice, and Imuren being a mage was a bonus. But, if what he said was true... if this place was fictional back home, and they were self-inserts of a kind...

_This rebellion might not be as daunting a task as I thought._

A knock at the door broke her out of her thoughts.

"Come in," Aislynn said.

In came one of her close friends: Cheston's sister, Laura. Bright green eyes framed by oaken brown hair, Laura looked the part of her magic speciality: nature magic. As the existential concepts raised last night rose to Aislynn's mind, she idly suspected intentional creation. The younger girl bore a sheepish smile and held a plate of food and a waterskin.

"I thought I told you to wake me at sunrise everyday," Aislynn chided.

"You did, but the last time you had a hangover you told me to... uh... f-"

"Fuck off for three hours, right," Aislynn sighed, "Well, you don't need to fear my sailor's tongue today."

Laura shrugged, "Couldn't risk it; Cheston's still cranky... to put it lightly."

Aislynn shuddered, remembering how drunk her fellow singer was the previous night, "I can imagine..."

"Wild crowd?"

Aislynn smiled, "You don't know the half of it... though, now that you're here, I suppose we can have our report."

"Well, we finished the harvest an hour after you left, and will be ready for the next sowing this afternoon. Of course, we don't need to, given our surplus, but..."

"I'll be comfortable with an extra month's supply, but don't feel the need to get it done soon," Aislynn said after swallowing a mouthful of bread, "Heats off of us, after all."

"Small graces, all things considered. I'll have the greenhands take a day off," Laura frowned, then continued, "Water supply is at a surplus; we have enough for a week."

"As expected... The steamworks are also resting?"

"The waterworks are. Last I checked, Cyrus and his men are experimenting with the masons. Something about getting metal."

"What do we need metal for? We're not instigating fights."

"Cyrus suggested keeping small arms or forging armour. "

"I thought I'd talked this through already..." Aislynn growled, then rose from her bed, "Anything else noteworthy?"

"Uh, no. Everything's normal."

"Great. Follow me, then."

Laura walked in beat with Aislynn, creaking wooden planks as they stepped. As she walked down the three stories of staircases present in their safehouse, Aislynn reflected. The mage-mason was doing this out of good will; that she was certain of. But, he was being stubborn. They had agreed not to take up arms. This went against their decision; the whole reason they left. And, if someone was attacking them, it was because they knew of their magic. In such a scenario, magic would be far better than steel. All arming everyone would do was plant seeds of paranoia in everyone. As if a secretive sect of mages wouldn't have enough of that already...

_Well, given that it is Cyrus, I suppose I can't be too hard on him. Only makes sense he'd be so set on this._

Leaving the door, Aislynn found herself face-to-face with Cyrus. The ex-soldier was unusually timid; his tall frame curled, his eyes seemingly ashamed. Perhaps he'd realised his mistake early.

"Cyrus," Aislynn crossed her arms, "You know what I'm going to say?"

"Yeah, we don't need steel to defend ourselves," Cyrus' eyes hardened, but his voice remained quiet, "I disagree, now more than ever... I..."

"We're not being attacked, unless you've betrayed us?"

Cyrus grit his teeth, "I swear I didn't tell him."

"Him?" Aislynn squinted, "Who is 'him'?"

The dream mage's mind did a quick recollection. Names came to mind as to who it might be. Perhaps Happ decided to join her? But no, Cyrus wouldn't be so worried; maybe ticked off, given his dislike of the kid, but that seemed unlikely. Maybe it was Miss Crownguard? No, she was a Miss; her conflicted heart lowered her chances further. Could it be her brother instead? That would scare Cyrus... but if Garen was here she'd likely have woken up at sword point. Then who...

Cyrus opened his mouth to answer, "It's-"

A familiar baritone cut him off, "I believe I can introduce myself."

Aislynn's breath hitched.

Cyrus looked to her with a pained expression, "He... just, good luck."

As Cyrus walked past her, Aislynn felt the blood leave her face. She could barely believe the sight; the chains on the ground, the scarred arms... the charged eyes that looked at her with a flurry of all the wrong emotions.

"It's been a while, Aislynn," Sylas of Dregbourne smiled, "I'd like to speak with you privately."

Aislynn glanced to Laura, hoping for her a way out. Alas, the nature mage had a pale face and a shy apology in her eyes.

"I... I'll give you two some space."

"Go ahead," Aislynn mumbled.

As Cyrus and Laura Left her view, Sylas approached, "Shall we?"

"We'll talk upstairs."

They didn't; Aislynn barely passed the first staircase before asking her first question.

"I thought you were going to the Freljord."

"We returned," Sylas replied, "It was a hard journey, and we lost some men... but it was worth it."

"How many men?"

"Twelve came with me. Nine gave their lives," Sylas at least held a somber tone as he spoke, "They knew the risks."

"The risks?" Returning to her room, Aislynn turned on her heel and jabbed a finger at Sylas, "How can you say any of this was worth it? You got nine of your mages - nine _people_ \- killed... and for what? Ultimate power?"

"They gave their lives for the cause," Sylas spat back at her with equal venom, "They knew the risks and knew that if we were successful, we'd be able to bring this war to an end."

"War? I thought this was a revolution," Aislynn crossed her arms, "Are you declaring a new, mage state, perhaps?"

Before Sylas could respond, Aislynn shook her head and cut in, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for you," Sylas responded, "For all of you. The powers I gained in the Frejlord can end this war; I want you all by my side to see our victory."

"End this w-" Aislynn groaned in exasperation, "Don't you get why we left? Why we ran from the rebellion and formed our own sect?"

"You feared the Mageseekers' wrat-"

"We feared _you_ , Sylas. The assassinations, the patrol raids, how does that help our cause?"

"We're at war; we kill our enemie-"

"How does that help the mages of Demacia?" Aislynn growled and turned her back on Sylas, "You don't get it, you just don't..."

"What don't I understand?"

"The nobles you killed did nothing," Aislynn sent a glare at Sylas, "The soldiers did nothing. They weren't even Dauntless Vanguard; they were just conscripts, recruits from the fields. Were they Mageseekers? Did they bully and kill our brethren? Did they force petricite down our throats?"

"They did nothing," Sylas repeated with a hateful growl, "Those noble soldiers did nothing as our brethren died. They are complicit; good little cogs in the machine I seek to destroy."

"Even if they're innocent?"

"They aren't innocent."

Sylas punctuated each word with a step closer to Aislynn. The dream mage felt the blood race through her veins, but her limbs, ever frigid, barely backed her away. Sylas' glare glowed a ghastly grey that grew blinding as he continued to approach. Aislynn felt her heart beat with fear. Yet, as quickly as they burned, Sylas' eyes faded to their normal iron grey. Aislynn was vaguely aware that she'd been backed against her worn desk. Alas, her focus remained mostly on Sylas.

"I want you by my side in the new order," Sylas whispered, "Why won't you join me?"

Still wary, Aislynn leaned against the desk for support. She mustered all the steel in her heart to reflect cold in her eyes.

"If your order is built on the bones and ashes of the old one..." Aislynn swallowed, shuddering as she felt her words were bitter. Yet, she continued, "I won't join you."

"...fine, then."

Sylas smiled and stepped forward.

Aislynn reached back further on her desk and felt... steel?

The glow in Sylas' eyes returned has he took another step.

Aislynn channeled her own magic within herself... and knew.

Sylas took another step and raised a hand.

Aislynn aimed a red-gold titanium gauntlet and blasted the Unshackled with a beam of plasma.

* * *

She snapped her eyes open and sat up, ramrod straight. She aimed an arm before her in warning, ready to repeat her dream action. Her eyes acquainted themselves with the dark.

The dark looked back with white daggers.

"What the hell are you?" She whispered, feeling her blood freeze up in fear.

The cause of her fright regarded her cooly before a shadowy hand covered its face. The action caused it to disappear, prompting her to stand up. Just as quickly, though, it revealed its face again.

"What are you?" She demanded once more with a yell.

"An eager fool," it replied, "...Foolish indeed. May we see each other again..."

"Wait-"

The shadow floated past her to the only source of light in the room: a window glowing with moonlight. She stepped off her bed to chase, but it was already gone. She clenched her fist.

 _That thing got into my dreams... it made me see_ him _... and after-_

_That can't be a coincidence._

Aislynn slowly stepped back to her cot, a single name on her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the slightly-longer wait. Had a bit of a busy week working on college applications. Inktober also started, so I have to juggle that around. But, this chapter was shaping up to be short regardless of my schedule: I just needed to iron out the conclusion.
> 
> Apologies for anyone who disliked my commentary on the US political system. I figured a brief discussion on the protests/riots could be applied to my fic's arcs decently well. Not to mention that a conversation about the old world would be inevitable when two isekai inserts are in play.
> 
> Also in play are a few more references. Hope you can catch and appreciate them all.
> 
> As always, leave a comment; I appreciate the feedback.


	7. Chapter 7

"Well, Aislynn... You look like shit."

Hartley's observation prompted perhaps the first smile she'd had all morning. The throbbing in her head and the looks she'd gotten on her way to the Misty Ridge did nothing to improve her mood. It was warranted; within camp she was known to not be a morning person, and out of it the sight of a sleep-deprived woman coming out of the woods would be concerning. Alas, trust the down-to-earth bartender to open with a snide remark.

Aislynn shrugged, sat, and her smile faded.

"You know why I'm here," she spoke with serious tone.

"I suspect," Hartley replied, "If you're looking for Imuren, I'm afraid he's left for the day. Him and his crew..."

Aislynn sighed, "... Pick me up. No alcohol."

"Wouldn't have given you some if you'd asked."

When Hartley returned with a mug, he continued the conversation with an assumption, "So he was lying when he said he wasn't causing trouble?"

"I don't know, but it's too much of a coincidence..." Aislynn drank deep of her mug, then continued, "I had a nightmare."

"Nightmare..." Hartley squinted, "...and?"

"...right, I didn't say," Aislynn grimaced then leaned closer, "I'm a dream mage. We're not supposed to have nightmares."

"Ah," Hartley blinked, "Well... they have mages for dreams too?"

"Yeah, though we're rare in the community," Aislynn backed away, "Anyway, I had a nightmare for the first time since I... learned how to control my dreams. This comes right after I meet another dream mage."

"And this nightmare isn't a coincidence?"

"Maybe it is, but something caused my dream. I saw it."

"Saw _it_?"

Aislynn sighed, "When I woke from my nightmare, there was this... moving shadow with white eyes. I think it were its eyes anyway. It called itself an eager fool then ran away. I don't know if Imuren knows about it."

"But you're asking anyway?"

"He's-" Aislynn stopped herself before she outed Imuren's being a mage in public, "He's like me. Maybe he's encountered it before; that's why the shadow called itself a fool; it couldn't attack Imuren, so it shouldn't have tried me... I'm just throwing out ideas, I don't really know."

"Yeah..." Hartley chuckled, "Sorry I can't help more; not exactly the guy for it, you know?"

"Apology accepted. Not that I need to; I'm not really asking _you_ for help; the blame isn't yours," Aislynn sighed, "When's he coming back?"

"Should be back for lunch, from what I heard," Hartley shook his head, "Could be longer. That lady of his is working with the Laurent in town."

Aislynn sighed and took a long sip from her mug. She offered the empty cup to Hartley.

"Seems we've a lot of time."

"Yeah... We have a free room if you're planning on sticking around."

"Thanks, but I think we can be a bit more productive," Aislynn glanced around the bar, found no one particularly suspicious, asked, "What do you know about Imuren and his party?"

"Not much... they seem like good people," Hartley took a seat on his side of the counter, "According to their boss, the girl with the ponytail is Imuren's sister. She may share his... gifts."

Aislynn recalled the previous night. Imuren was quick to hide his reaction, but when Cheston had barged in during his drunken stupor - calling his friends mages - he had paled. His sister was a mage as well, then.

"Of course, those two were from Arbormark, so it makes sense they'd have their skills," Hartley continued, giving Aislynn a refill, "The other two are close friends. Skinnier one is the sister's boyfriend, if that means anything to you."

"Not in particular... Wait, Arbormark?"

"Imuren said he and his didn't know the guy who passed by here a while back."

Aislynn slowly nodded, "How about their boss? Lady Sharpstem?"

"Elia de Recht of House Sharpstem, well... She's all about the business. Leader of a small house with no heir, so it makes sense."

"No kids then. Why not marry?"

"Nobody knows. Even more confusing given her father let her do that. Was a far warmer man than her, the late Lord Sharpstem was..."

"That so... well, what's her business?"

"Quite significant, actually. House Sharpstem is a key trade point in the kingdom. The river allows for trade from the sea to come in, but it's close enough to Graygate so land products come in as well. The Laurents own them, of course, but for their small holdings their decently powerful vassals."

"Hmmm... what do they trade?"

"Well, anything and everything. They're a self-sufficient house, that's for sure. But, if you're looking for specifics..." Hartley paused then leaned close, "Two years back, Lady de Recht got rights to sell petricite to Piltover. The old King Jarvan wanted to engage with old allies, so he gave the Piltoverans what they wanted from us. House Sharpstem was chosen to manage it."

"Petricite trade..." Aislynn measured the words as she whispered, thinking. An Arbormark dream mage working for a lower-ranking lady who trades petricite with the outside world... It truly was an absurd picture, with potential to go anywhere. Perhaps Imuren lied about being an Arbormark mage, and was like Sylas; a mage who turned to the Mageseekers and worked to expose his own kind. In that case, Lady Elia would be a partner or handler. Or maybe Lady de Recht was a secret supporter of the rebellion, trading petricite to foreign nations to develop an easy counter to the magic-draining stone; Imuren's interacting with her could be the start of talks with mage rebels.

Yet none of it explained the shadow...

"Of course as a Laurent vassal they also sell steel for the military. I think some artisans at the House's grounds craft swords for richer nobles-" Her plight must've reflected on her face, given Hartley's sudden pause, "Sorry if it doesn't help..."

"No, it's fine. Not your fault Imuren's past could mean anything. Or nothing," Aislynn sighed, "Do you think... what do you know about ghosts?"

Hartley's eyes narrowed, "Ghost stories?"

"Demons, ghosts, spirits, I don't know... I mean, if not those things, what would the shadow I saw be?"

"A hallucination?"

When Aislynn sent Hartley a deadpan glare, the bartender raised his hands, "I mean no offence, I'm serious! If he's a... well, you know... maybe he made you see things?"

Aislynn turned her gaze away and nodded, "That is certainly possible... but I still think there's something else in play. Have you heard anything?"

"Well, there are a lot of rumors. Bout a decade back there was this up-and-coming noble house; House Vayne. Travelling merchants who impressed the late king enough to get a title. They were killed not long after establishing their house. Their heir claimed a demon killed them. The guards who found the bodies never believed her; suspected it was some assasination plot. But, apparently Vayne's a monster hunter now. Maybe she really saw something."

"Interesting, I suppose. Nothing else?"

"Nothing else tangible. Of course people disappear, and there's the occasional boy crying 'Fiddlesticks' in the fields. Though actually..." Hartley's voice dropped, "Have you heard about the business at Fossbarrow?"

"I've heard of it, but no specifics. Being out in the woods does that..." Aislynn leaned in, "I thought Fossbarrow was mage business."

"You really think so?"

Sylas' magic-charged eyes echoed in Aislynn's vision, and she nodded, "Fossbarrow's Crownguard territory. He'd have intent to strike there."

"I suppose you'd be the expert. But, the rumors contradict the crown's words; and yours," Hartley claimed, "Apparently something happened to the magistrate's son. The kid ran into the forest, then the people couldn't sleep. A haze appeared around the town, and some travellers said there were monsters in the fog. Finally, Garen Crownguard and his sister investigate, and the problem's fixed. The crown's very hush about it."

"Don't tell anyone, but Lady Luxanna is a mage. Perhaps she used her magic to purify whatever was causing problems there... and-" with a short gasp, the dream mage moved away from the problem solver and onto the problem, "The people couldn't sleep... do you know why?"

"No, the reports haven't given those details; nor have the rumors... but you suspect that its related?"

"It'd be too much of a coincidence if it wasn't," Aislynn sipped from the mug to calm herself, "Ok, we have a lead. Is there anything else you know?"

"On monsters? Again, its just rumours... but I suppose there's some credibility to it."

"Imuren gets back by midday, right? That's more than enough time for me. So..."

"That's the most recent story I've got," a warning tone sprang from Hartley's voice, "I doubt the rest will be all that useful."

"Perhaps," Aislynn admitted. This probably would be a waste of time, but, "...How about we start with that Vayne character?"

* * *

"What is it?"

"Xander, you look like shit."

The Left Hand snorted, "Thanks, appreciate it."

He didn't need a mirror to confirm it. He needed to think to remain conscious, never mind his mood and the headache that had remained with him since breakfast. The day of treating, or rather, Laurent ass-kissing, did not do any help.

As they exited the gates of the Meltridge Town Hall, Xander sighed in relief.

Yin didn't relent, "What kept you up?"

Despite being in the middle of town, practically surrounded by Demacian soldiers, Xander didn't hesitate to answer, "Nocturne."

"Oh? What about him?"

 _"_ I had him follow up on our new friends."

"Follow up?" Yin took a few steps to think about it, "Oh, the singer... What did you mean by follow up?"

"If she's a mage, she's either a secret one or an escapee from the capitol. I suspect the latter, and if that's the case she won't be in the town. Somewhere nearby to be sure, but hidden," Xander explained, "Nocturne was to find her through her dreams then chart a path for us to meet them. He hasn't reported back yet."

"Could he have gotten caught?"

"Nocturne is noticeable if you know what to look for," Xander's smirk faded to a frown, "Though, I suppose he should've met up with us if it was so easy."

"...Maybe he's good in his element, but out of it... could he have gotten caught?"

"I think the local garrison would've been more on edge if that were the case. Either because of demon sightings or mage sightings, in lieu of Nocturne fighting his way out," Xander sighed, "Maybe he's taking the long way around?"

"There was a petricite mine nearby, right? We went pass it on our way here."

"Yes, though I doubt mages would be hiding there..."

Yin sighed, but raised a pointer figure, "Yeah, but maybe that's what they'd want everyone to think?"

"Shush!" Their host cut in with a subtle stamp. Elia lead them as she berated, "I'm not interested in getting arrested in open daylight."

"You don't have much to worry about out that," Xander replied.

At least, he believed so. With the noon sun above them, the Meltridge center street was alive with business. Townsmen chatted, merchants bargained, and children played. More packed than the previous night, the sight reminded Xander of the scene at Graygate. Only, instead of ever-present petricite walls, the runesteel helms of Laurent soldiers - newly arrived, Xander had discovered - provided he show of Demacian military might. Unlike in Graygate, however, the reminder didn't seem comforting; the Left Hand saw a couple of townsmen send dirty to the soldiers' way.

 _With a mage presence nearby and a defiant populace, Meltridge just might be our first time stepping stone,_ Xander thought with furrowed brows, _A bit too notable, though. Crown's definitely noted Meltridge after the scuffle with the Arbormark diplomat. And we haven't even done anything._

"Imuren," Yin called, catching his attention. She glanced around upon noticing his suspicious mood, "What is it?"

"Not here," Xander flashed a smirk, "Just some consideration."

Yin glanced around as they walked. By the frown on her face, Xander suspected she'd noted the increased military presence as well.

"Silver for your thoughts?"

"How should I say this..." Yin was silent for a moment, "If _Nico_ hasn't been caught, how's he going to make it back to us through all this?"

Xander chuckled, "Nico? A good name for him, I suppose; I'll have to start calling him that. Anyway, it shouldn't be too much of a problem. He's naturally camouflaged for night time movement, and he doesn't really need to be close. By latching onto dreams, he can get anywhere we are."

"Then why did you stay up?"

"He was supposed to track the physical path to our contact. That meant the dream trick wasn't an option."

"So Nico's either been caught, or is sitting in some cave waiting for us to get a nap?"

"I'd hope so," Xander sighed, "All things considered, he's probably playing it safe. Maybe he noticed our new visitors en route?"

That was a possibility; the Laurent garrison had grown over night, with new arrivals from the capitol. Since the mages were running from the capitol, it was possible they were hiding along the main road to it. Nocturne's path would've been blocked by the convoy.

"You'll have to wait till he comes back," Yin replied, shrugging with a smile, "Day's got me beat; I'm not talking about that shit until after lunch."

As they entered the Misty Ridge, Xander smiled, "Sounds like a plan. Here's hoping they've got something good."

As it turns out, he there wasn't anything good. For upon meeting the bloodshot stare of a fellow dream mage, all Xander could do was sigh. Yin elbowed him to catch his attention.

"Are you sure Nico didn't get caught?" she whispered.

"I never was. But..." Xander sighed, "Go with the others. I'll deal with her."

"Can you?"

"In this case, most certainly. Though obviously, the worst case scenario..."

"Go on, Hand," Elia butted in with a growl, "Dig yourself out of your hole and join us quickly."

"Yes ma'am."

In such hopeless times, Xander found taking the stoic soldier role to be a good repellant of fear. Admittedly it might've been an overreaction; he'd been through worse. But, this was another dream mage; a potential equal. Might as well be serious from the get go. And so he marched.

When Aislynn turned fully to meet him, Xander noticed Hartley behind her by the counter. They both glared at him like the threat he was. As the Left Hand sighed, Hartley initiated with an accusatory tone.

"Aislynn's been meaning to speak with you," the bartender spoke with a measured tone, "I don't suppose you can explain?"

"If I'm not wrong, these would be your words: it's _business_. Your storeroom won't suffice, Hartley. Aislynn, if you don't mind following me to my room."

Hartley stepped forward, leaning on the counter with intent, "You think-"

Aislynn stopped him, "Hartley, I don't mind. As long as I get answers."

"Aislynn-"

"I'll be fine. As he said, it is business," Aislynn stood from her stool and met Xander with a determined gaze, "Lead on."

No words were exchanged for the next few minutes. Not as they went up the stairs, not when they went through the door. They sat across from each other, with Xander on his bed and Aislynn on the opposite; Gerris' bed. Xander decided on silence and thought what his next words would be, and the words after.

Unfortunately, nothing concrete could be decided on, so... "Alright... what happened?"

Aislynn took a breath, "I was hoping you could explain that."

"Well, give me something to work with here," Xander continued, "If you want an explanation, I need to know what you want explained."

"Yeah, I get it," Aislynn waved Xander off, "Ok, so... I had a nightmare last night. First nightmare I've had since I learned how to use my powers."

"I can imagine that to be quite stressful."

"Yeah! Anyways... in my dream..." Aislynn paused, "Uhhh..."

_Perhaps some details on the rebellion? Well..._

"Just so you know, I assumed you were affiliated with the rebels," Xander smirked, "You're a mage, and Hartley asked you about business last night. That isn't subtle in the slightest."

Aislynn flinched, "I see... well, I guess if you know... when I was dreaming I was barely lucid. I made decisions and could control my actions, but I had _no_ idea I was dreaming. I thought I'd woken up at my camp-"

"The camp you're keeping quiet about for safety," Xander cut in, "I understand, go on."

Aislynn sent Xander a tired glare, sighed, then continued, "I went about my usual morning routine when a few things came up... And... Sylas showed up."

_Oh boy..._

"Sylas? _The_ Sylas?" Imuren held a measured smile, "You knew him personally?"

"Despite obviously being our leader, he always insisted on being equal with everyone," Aislynn explained with a frown, "Sylas implored for me to join him in his fight."

"Did you join him? In the dream?"

"No. Because Sylas was what told me better. I realise now that the dream seemed... hollow. I didn't know what it missed in the others. It missed it in Sylas, and I banished the dream the moment I realised the oddity."

"Banished it?" Xander narrowed his eyes. Banished. Like banishing a demon?

Aislynn elaborated, "I attacked the dream Sylas and woke up at that point. When I sat up, I saw something in the shadows. I'm not sure it had a shape, but it had two white eyes..."

_So Nocturne was caught. Ok..._

Aislynn shivered, "That thing was looking into my soul. I asked it what it was. It replied with this rasping voice. 'An eager fool' was what it said, then it left. Like mist through my window."

"And that was it?"

"Yes."

The silence that followed was palpable. Xander noticed signs of slippage on Aislynn's part. It seemed he was being too intimidating...

_It's a repeat of the last confession. Damn it man... Well, when all else fails..._

With traces of his own magic flaring in his eyes, Xander finally spoke, "I think a nap might be in order. Lie down."

After a second's hesitation, Aislynn complied. As she lied down, Xander put a linking rune on her arm. The dream mage watched him as he walked back to the bed. Only when he lied down did Aislynn relax. With the moment of serenity, Xander willed slumber upon them both.

He awoke in a room with white walls and a wooden floor. A steel table lay at the center with a black core; a hologram table straight out of the science fiction he enjoyed back on Earth. Xander rolled off the bed he'd dreamed up and approached the opposite one, where Aislynn lay.

Or rather, Ashley Woods lay. Shoulder length caramel-gold locks framed a plain yet pleasant face. Aislynn's Earthly self was shorter and slimmer than her Runeterran counterpart, but that was to be expected; Runeterra was a harder world than modern-day Earth. The girl sat up swiftly with a yelp.

"Where-"

"My dreamscape," Xander replied, "Nothing special for now, don't think I need to share a scene. But, just in case..."

Aislynn glanced at suspiciously, "Imuren?"

"Yes?"

The dream mage was silent for a moment, analyzing him, then she relaxed, "Ah. That's how you looked on Earth?"

Xander nodded, flexing his lanky frame, "I prefer my new body, but that's probably because it can do magic. And life living on the edge makes for a fitter form."

"Why use this form in your dreams?"

"It's my way of remembering," Xander answered, "Technically this is my true form, and if we're to be honest and open with each other, I figure using it would be a sign of good faith."

"Thanks I guess," Aislynn still looked to him with suspicion. She pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation, then suddenly flinched.

"Wait... this..." Aislynn brushed a hand through her hair. She grabbed a lock of it and gazed upon it like she had found salvation. Nostalgia seemed to hit her like a freight train, and she could only chuckle and smile like an idiot.

"How did I not think of using my dreams like this?"

"You haven't?" Xander laughed briefly, "And you said I was quick to get rid of my past. But anyway..."

Xander offered Aislynn a hand, which after some hesitation she took. With his free left hand he snapped his fingers, and the hologram table's screen flashed to life. Blue lights darkened to the furthest point they could, forming a silhouette.

"For the first point of this meeting: I've met the being that caused your dream."

The silhouette took a cleaner shape, gaining steel shoulders and umbral blades. Xander willed the hologram to face Aislynn so she could see Nocturne's signature white eyes.

"The being you saw was a Runeterran demon."

"A demon? Like, hell demons?"

"Runeterran demon's aren't like the myths of Earth. They aren't unholy punishers of sinners, nor are they fallen angels. Instead, they are our spiritual reflections; parasites that feed on human spirit," Xander explained, "Their evil comes in that they feed mostly on negativity. They scare so as to take the greatest bounty of fear; they torture, so as to collect a maximum of agony..."

"So there are types of demons?" Aislynn leaned closer to look at the hologram, "What type was this one?"

"A special one to be sure; he was a character in League of Legends," Xander smiled, "The demon's name is Nocturne, the Eternal Nightmare."

"So a nightmare demon... Does that make us weaker or stronger against him?"

"Yes, but you'd need to know how to use your powers competently to stand against him. He's been around since the Rune Wars, after all," Xander chuckled, "And he only recently got smart."

Before Aislynn could question him on his final comment, Xander snapped his fingers. At the command, the room shifted to a dark void. At the center was a child, fearful and panicking. He bled from a cut at his calf, but held a growing ball of violent magic.

It was Xander in his youth.

"I was about two and a half years old when I met Nocturne," Xander explained to Aislynn, "My first year was a mess of PTSD nightmares. Second year was similar, but with a touch of adapting to being a self-insert. In short, I barely had control on my magic."

Aislynn watched his younger self with concern; a concern that grew when from the void Nocturne appeared. His armor sustained burns but his eyes glared, unwavering in their desire for murder. His right arm blade already had a taste, given the stain of red at its tip.

"How did you beat Nocturne then?"

"The same way anyone beats a late-game boss on a speed run," Xander smirked, "I abused my knowledge of the game."

The vision continued. Nocturne lunged forward, intending to land the final strike. The young Xander screamed with rage and grief and sheer determination, landing his blast of magic on Nocturne's chest. The young mage didn't let up, limping closer whilst maintaining a stream of magic. Caught, the demon convulsed in pain and groaned inhumanly.

"I gave Nocturne an emotion he wasn't used to. He fed on nightmares of survival. He did not know how to process the pain of guilt," Xander felt his smirk waver, "Among other emotions. After Earth I had much to spare. Unfulfilled hopes and wishes. Regrets. As well as anger for the fools that led our world to death. Not to mention confusion and wonder at being isekai'd to a relatively undeveloped fictional world which I had a semblance of understanding of."

As he spoke, Xander felt a familiar chill travel down his smile. The dream Nocturne's howls truly gained a sense of horror as the stream of emotion his younger self sent got brighter. He laughed as a final flash ended the dream.

"That first nightmare wasn't the end. It was a beginning. Nocturne would come again, trying to finish what he started. As we clashed I learned how to use my dream magic more," Xander's smirk returned. "As I learned, so did he. Empathy and guilt. Chastity and true joy, beyond survival. He's even gained some snark, though in all of these his demonic origins are still clear... alas, guilt, and a choice to refrain was what started his path."

Xander glanced mischievously over Aislynn, "How fitting that he'd give the same treatment or you."

Aislynn's eyes widened. She backed away.

"Imuren?" the dream mage anxiously asked.

"Duck," he replied.

Xander sent a haymaker hook Aislynn's way, which she barely slipped under. As predicted by the true combatant. Nocturne raised an arm to block, but was forced further by an enhanced punch.

The demon rasped as it recovered, "Xan-"

Xander didn't let up, tackling Nocturne with a gleeful guffaw. As he grappled with the misty form of the demon, Aislynn watched. If she wasn't terrified before, she probably was now.

_Oh well. It was going to be a shit show regardless. Might as well have some fun with it._

"Does my mind deceive me?" Xander asked his questions in a playful, sing-song tone, "Did Nico feel bad about fucking up a basic task?"

Nocturne paused his struggles, "Nico? Wha-who gave me that name?"

"Yin."

Nocturne practically exploded with rage, dream smoke flying everywhere, "All you mages are the same sort of filth!"

Xander held on, "Answer the question~"

"Fine!"

Nocturne broke free from Xander's grasp, or rather he let the demon free. He stood up again as Nocturne floated to keep eye level.

"I was caught by her... I didn't know what she'd do, but I thought she'd meet with you; I decided I'd report then."

Xander nodded, but his teasing smile remained, "You still haven't answered the question."

"... there was some guilt felt."

With a joyful laugh, Xander smacked Nocturne's back, leaving the arm over the demon's shoulder.

"I knew I was making progress!" Imuren chuckled, "Now, Aislynn here's given me quite the story. You gave her quite the dream! May I ask why?"

"I hoped to find something more worthwhile than a location. You mentioned you needed to know their temperament..."

"Hmm, you know what? I'm not mad anymore."

"I can sense both deceit and anger from you."

"I'll ignore that if you ignore that~" Xander turned to Aislynn as his smirk faded to a frown, "After all, this talk was always going to be hard. How and why I didn't think that'd be the case is beyond me..."

Aislynn gave an awkward chuckle, "Imuren? What's going on?"

The dream mage sighed, "I've probably scared the shit out of you. Damn it, why do I keep doing... doesn't matter."

Xander shook his head, "Anyways, I'll explain what's happening. First, yes, I know the demon who gave you a nightmare. Secondly, my name isn't Imuren, and I'm not of the Arbormark. My name - the one I've chosen - is Xander, and I was born here in Demacia. What else would you like to know?"

As Hartley listed what he knew about demons, it had occurred to Aislynn that she may have been out of her depth. Curious cat she was, however, she pressed on. She accepted the sudden request Imuren - or rather, Xander - gave her without question. As the dream started and her old form greeted her, she even felt content and joyful. There was no reason to fear, right? What could go wrong?

Now that she stood before a dream mage that was likely far beyond her skill _AND_ his demon pet, soul-crushing dread told her that, yes, _everything_ could go wrong.

Her reply to Xander's question came out like a rat's squeak, "Why?"

"Did I hide the truth? Fair question," Xander sat down on his hologram table with a frown, "Lets put it this way; an FBI agent wouldn't tell anyone that he's an agent-"

"So you're a Mageseeker," Aislynn could feel her heart beat against her chest like a drum, "You're... you're trying to use me to get to the rebellion."

Xander paused, mouth open, then shrugged, "I am trying to make contact with the rebellion, yes. But, I'm not a Mageseeker."

"Then what are you?"

Xander was again silent before looking up to the ceiling, "Jeez, Gerris is going to kill me."

He shook his head, "Me and my friends are a special operations unit from abroad. Our goal is to aid in the reform of Demacia. And as a mage who had to run from this country in my youth, I assure you I have only good intentions for your movement."

 _From abroad? How vague. But more importantly,_ "How do I know you're not lying?" Aislynn asked.

"This is my mind, feel free to look around. But if you wish to start, open the door behind you."

Aislynn cautiously turned around, finding an ivory white stone archway. She sent a curious glance at Xander, who hadn't moved, then went through. A glare of sunlight blinded her briefly, but after blinking it away she beheld a familiar sight.

The great city of Demacia, unmarred by conflict, lay before her.

She looked around, finding herself in a terrace; likely a retreat for nobles. The itch of petricite below her added to the immersion, as did the sounds of a lively city in the distance. The archway sat behind her, awkwardly meshed into some aristocrat's garden. Xander walked through with a smile.

"Not only was I born in Demacia, but I was also originally of... well, not noble blood, but my family was close to the top by association."

"Alright, you've convinced me of that," Aislynn spat, "But how do I know that you're not a Mageseeker?"

As Xander smiled silently in reply, the cries of children came. Aislynn looked to their direction and found four kids gleefully prancing onto the terrace. Or rather, three; the fourth was the young Xander, who silently walked behind them, hands behind his back with the arrogance of someone who knew his contemporaries were inferior. Xander seemed to biologically be one of the younger ones, the closest in age appearing to be a blonde girl with sky-blue eyes. The 'elders' of the group were two boys, one a black-haired boy with a charming smile and the other a tall, brown-haired lad, led the group onto the terrace.

"I'm sure you recognize some of them," Xander commented from behind Aislynn.

"I know you're one of them, dick," Aislynn replied, then paused, then gaped, "Wait, is that blonde Luxanna Crownguard?"

"Correct. And based on that I'm sure you can figure out who the other two are."

Recalling the day of the Capitol riot, Aislynn was able to find two matching identities. Given the shared hair color and extreme size, taller boy was likely Garen Crownguard, ever present for his sister. That left the black haired man to be the Prince himself, Jarvan the Fourth.

"Alright, so you were friends with powerful people," Aislynn turned her gaze to Xander, "How does that prove you're not a Mageseeker?"

"Luxanna Crownguard isn't in a cell."

If that was a threat, it only barely registered as such. Luxanna Crownguard, to Aislynn, was an inconsistent ally at best. She knew the light mage cared for her fellow magic users. Luxanna's work escorting mages out of harm's way was a noble effort, after all. But, whatever she did couldn't remove the blemish that was her betrayal on the day of the riot. The night after the prison break, between planning sessions and speeches of vengeance, Sylas had shared the heartwarming experiences he had with Luxanna, teaching her the ways of magic. They amounted to nothing, in the end, when their indirect liberator threatened to end their movement then and there.

With Sylas' recent acts, however, a part of Aislynn figured the Crownguard may have had the right idea.

But she wouldn't let Xander know that, "Sylas told me that noble born mages often are ignored, assuming they don't become betray their kind and become Mageseekers."

"Lux was present when Sylas broke free. Anyone with eyes could see she was the primary suspect, even if it was Sylas using her powers," Xander grimaced, "Not even the Crownguard name could save her from the punishment for treason."

"She chose the nobles over us, in the end. Try again."

Xander paused, pondered, then said, "The fact that there's a rebellion should be proof enough."

"Oh?"

"I knew who Sylas was before he even got arrested. I knew of his ability to see and steal magic, and how the former brought him doubt for the system. I know that Luxanna met him when researching magic prevention, and eventually form a mentorship bond with him. I know that using her light magic, Sylas broke free and started his rebellion," Xander gesticulated as he listed, "I knew all of this would happen, and I let it happen. If I was a Mageseeker, why would I do that?"

_That... is a good point._

"...You weren't around to stop it," Aislynn assumed, "You weren't present. You were on a mission, fighting elsewhere."

"I didn't need to stop the riot to stop the rebellion," Xander countered, "I could've assassinated Sylas before Lux ever got to him; no-one would miss the alleged murdering mage, especially not in this country. I might've even been able to prevent Sylas from 'turning' all together. An accident prompted his arrest; send him elsewhere, give him a desk job, maybe even use him as a personal guard, and the rebellion's leader never would have reason to rebel. Yet, none of that happened. Because: I am not - and never have been - a Mageseeker."

After a pause, Aislynn nodded, "Fine. You aren't a Mageseeker. But, if you did want to help Demacian mages, why wait until now?"

Xander shared a sad smile and turned away. He raised a hand, motioning to follow.

"You were right in saying I wasn't present," Xander admitted, "Given the timeline, I assume I indeed was on a mission fighting someone else somewhere else... But as for laying foundations, that too was out of my reach."

Aislynn watched Xander from behind and saw movement beyond him. By the terrace's entrance, two new figures came. Leading at the forefront was an older woman with silver-blonde hair. Immediately, Aislynn recognized the Crownguard genetics; she was broad-shouldered, like Garen would become, and her face looked like a tougher iteration of Luxanna's. Behind her, remaining in the shadows, was a man in blue robes with a petricite necklace: a Mageseeker. Just the sight filled Aislynn with a range of emotions, none good.

"Being friends with the Prince generally had no downsides. Same couldn't be said about the Crownguards," Xander sighed, "Garen and Lux were great, and their parents were damn paragons of Demacian values; the good ones, that is. Their aunt, Tianna Crownguard, then Sword-Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard, however, was as by-the-book hard-ass."

"Her spouse was even worse, however," Xander pointed past Tianna to the Mageseeker in the shadows, "That I lasted as long as I did living with _the head of the Mageseekers_ as my friggin' neighbour was a damn miracle. But, at the age of fifteen, during a short vacation with the royal party, I was caught redhanded. My father, close as he was to the king, wouldn't be able to help against such a case. So, I ran."

From the shadows, the dream faded. The Demacian terrace disappeared, and Aislynn found herself back in the hub Xander woke her into. Her host continued with a somber tone.

"Didn't even fight; no proof save for his own eyewitness, and the bastard couldn't take it to my dad. In the end, all that anyone would hear was a missing kid's report," Xander replied, "I stuck around the kingdom for a bit, took a job on the eastern border as a soldier, then left the country at nineteen."

"So in short, you couldn't do anything," Aislynn said, "Why come back then?"

"I always wanted to change this place up. Make it better; make a change," Xander grinned, "Now that canon's caught up, the time's come. I think I was close back when I still lived with the royals. Now I'm back to fulfil the mission I set out for myself."

Aislynn raised an eyebrow, "That being ending of mage racism in Demacia?"

"Perhaps, if I can reach that far," Xander looked away in some semblance of shame, "I'm a realist. Mage racism, I suspect, will far outlast both of us, so I can't change that. But, the systematic genocide of mages? That, I can stop."

 _A realist, huh? I... really can't argue with that._ "...Fair enough," Aislynn replied.

After a short pause, Xander sighed with relief, "So you believe me."

Aislynn smirked, "Don't throw it away now. Your self-doubt has so far been the most incriminating thing about you."

Xander chuckled, "I'm more than aware of how shady I look. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't trust me."

"Some part of me doesn't," Aislynn admitted, "I..."

Aislynn... smiled. There wasn't anything to fear.

"I'm sure that by the end of this rebellion, we'll trust each other far easier. We've quite the road ahead, no?"

Xander returned with a smile of his own, toothy, goofy, awkward, "Yeah... yeah! Quite the road. Though, I must say, we'll have to diverge for a bit."

"Diverge?"

Xander exhaled, letting go of some stress (likely leftovers from her interrogation), then explained, "My handler, Miss de Recht, has to go to the Capitol. As her assistant and potential heir, I'll be following."

"The Capitol? Will that be safe?"

"I've been through worse," Xander grinned, "FBI agent equivalent, remember?"

"Right..." Aislynn briefly giggled, "I'd ask for details, but you'd have to kill me, no?"

"Well, maybe not. I'd hate to kill another Earthling. But anyway..." Xander stood up, "Is there anything you'd like me to do there?"

Aislynn paused, "... Maybe? The Capitol's been so far behind me, honestly. It's too risky for any mage to approach that place... Luxanna excluded, of course."

"And myself," Xander crossed his arms, "I'll be there for a week. That's plenty of time to do something."

"... there is something you could do," Aislynn spat out before her mind even figured out that thing to do, "... there might be mages still in the Capitol."

"Captured mages," Xander assumed, then nodded, "I'll see what I can do."

"Yes, thanks... Oh, and Luxanna," Aislynn paused to decide her words, then continued, "She's still in doubt about the rebellion."

"You want me to try bring her on board?" Xander frowned, "I doubt she would, but I was already planning to that end."

"Figures you would," Aislynn grinned, "I don't suppose you're planning some shitty childhood crush romance plot, are you?"

"So help me, Gods of Earth, if I did," Xander laughed, "I don't want a brother-in-law who can crush my skull single-handedly, even if Garen is a cool guy."

Aislynn nodded, "I don't doubt it... so if you're going, when can we meet again?"

"Two weeks latest. We might stop by on our way to the Capitol," Xander grinned, "Though, me and mine still have a week here in Meltridge. See you next music night?"

Aislynn smirked, "You bet."

"I'll be seeing you then," Xander sat back onto his bed, "It's... well, actually it's been a stressful-as-shit conversation, but as much as I'd like to keep you around, having you disappear in my bunk for a long period of time may look... inappropriate."

It took a second for Aislynn to get it, then she flinched with a blush.

"But... it can't have been longer than a few minutes!"

"There's a term for _that_ , and even if it wasn't _that,_ people already think we had past relations," Xander smirked, "Or did I hallucinate your friend thinking we were exes?"

Aislynn didn't deign to answer, hopping onto her bed and lying on her back in a flurry of movement.

"Fuck off, I'll see you on music night!"

Xander laughed. It was the last sound she heard before returning to reality.

* * *

As Aislynn's body disappeared from his dreamscape, Xander sighed.

"Nocturne?"

"Yes?"

"Well played there."

Nocturne's open hand held a stolen thought. A wispy blue, it spoke of mystery, confusion, and curiosity. If that question were to be answered...

"If your true allegiance was brought to light, your choices would be limited."

"Indeed," Xander lied on his own bed and closed his eyes, "Why do I think I'm delaying the inevitable, though?"

"That's simple," Nocturne laughed, echoes of his demonic nature resurfacing, "Because you are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while. Between finishing up (or rather, trying to finish up) Inktober, and reworking this chapter, it took far longer than I would've liked. Spent the past two weeks cutting and rewriting for this chapter, but I've finally got it in a form I like. In hindsight I took way too long choosing between whether to repeat the whole "skeletons-out-of-the-closet" arc from chapters 3 and 4 in this one. Of course, its only a delay, but I think pushing the next reveal to a future chapter should make the story flow better.
> 
> As always, leave a comment; I appreciate the feedback.


	8. Chapter 8

_"This way! Through here!"_

_Through the confused cries of innocents and prying eyes of Mageseekers, Sylas led them. Smoke and blood was in the air as swords and sorcery clashed. The skilled among them had split away to deal tastes of retribution on their oppressors. Sylas, however, led the weak away._

_Aislynn followed Sylas through a broken-down door and down stone corridors. Sylas moved swiftly and with experience. What the place was and how Sylas knew about it was beyond her, but it wasn't as though she had any other options._

_The sounds of war gave way to silence as they went deeper into the building. When Sylas les them through another door, however, a stink took place._

_"Sewers?" one of the escapees asked aloud._

_"It's the safest option," Sylas answered curtly, "Its a maze of you don't know where to go, and their armor will be weighed down."_

_"How about bows and arrows?"_

_Sylas grinned, flames floating from his fingertips, "Whatever they bring, I can more than match it. Now, through the sewers."_

_"Wait, you're Sylas!"_

_The new voice garnered the attention of all mages present. Looking back, they found a family of four, each in simple clothing; a middle-aged mother, a father with a few gray hairs, and two brothers of different age. Middle-class workers, but Sylas' grimace implied something more._

_"You're not mages. Who are you?" Sylas' question was joined by the flaring of magic; his own and his allies. The threat was clear: get out of the way or die._

_The mother stepped forward, "I'm not a mage, but my boy..."_

_From the protective grasp of his elder sibling, the youngest boy stepped forward. He revealed an open palm, from which arcs of electricity danced._

_"It's not safe... my family," the woman swallowed a sob, "They can't stay here."_

_They, Not we. Aislynn caught on and asked, "What about you?"_

_"My husband and I aren't mages," the woman shook her head, "As long as my boys can live free, I don't mind."_

_"They shouldn't have to live without their mother," Aislynn glanced at Sylas, "We can help them, right?"_

_"We can... we will protect them," Sylas paused, then doubled down, "No, we will protect you all."_

_A new, high pitched voice entered the fray, "No, stay away from him!"_

_Once again, eyes turned. Clad in runesteel armor, Luxanna Crownguard stood at the end of the stairs, wielding a looted stained blade a tad bit too big for her._

_"Who is that?"_

_"It's a Dauntless, has to be!"_

_"No," Sylas cut in, his baritone breaking the babbles, "That is Luxanna Crownguard."_

_A low gasp filled the room._

_"Will she hurt us?" asked one of their new additions._

_"No, my friends," Sylas answered with a frown, "Crownguard she may be; she wouldn't harm an innocent."_

_At Sylas' words, Lux raised her sword and, with her free hand, conjured a ball of light. Immediately, all the mages in the room - save Sylas - harnesed their own magics. The young Crownguard's raised arms shook, whether from exertion or fear Aislynn couldn't tell._

_"You're not innocent," Lux growled at Sylas, venom in her voice, "You... you've killed too many people. At the break out, today at the palace... This isn't right!"_

_"And your swine friends are?" Sylas countered, stepping forward with no concern, "You've seen what they've done to us. How many mages has the Prince killed? How many has your brother? Am I wrong to defend myself? To defend the true Demacia?"_

_"You..." Lux shook, unable to find the words to say._

_"Crownguard blood may flow through your veins, but so does magic," Sylas' voice softened, "You belong with us. Come with me."_

_The Crownguard looked to her old mentor as Sylas raised a hand. She took a step, and for a moment Aislynn believed she might join them. But, steel returned after that._

_"I cannot," Lux gasped, first unbelieving the words coming from her lips, then repeating it to herself, "I cannot!"_

_The sword in her hands fell to the floor, and her knees followed. Sylas could only sigh at the sight._

_"...So you cannot," Sylas turned to his flock of escapees, "Come then, let us leave this place."_

_"But what about her?" Aislynn asked, still wary of the fallen Crownguard._

_"Pay her no mind," Sylas replied, not daring to look back, "She has made her choice."_

_The Unshackled waded into the sewers, stepping into the shadows of freedom. One by one, his flock followed. Aislynn shared a brief final glance with the Crownguard, heard the sounds of war catching up, and finally followed Sylas to her liberation._

The shadows of the sewers grew darker, and the color of the dreamscape was consumed. The water stilled in its waves as the scene stopped.

"So, that's it. The birth of the rebellion from my point of view," Aislynn concluded, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"In a sense," Xander replied, "Thank you for sharing that. It couldn't have been easy."

"Some parts easier than others," Aislynn admitted. A new thought made itself known, and she raised an eyebrow, "I don't particularly care about Luxanna Crownguard, but you seem to. Care to explain?"

"She, I suspect, will be a key figure in this rebellion. She knows that what's happening is wrong. If we can convince her to join us, that's a major win on our end."

"Is that the only reason?"

Xander sent a lightly amused glare, "I'm not into her. I haven't even seen her in years."

Aislynn shrugged, a smirk of her own on her face, "Could've fooled me."

Silence filled the void for a moment. Aislynn glanced at her fellow dream mage's face, finding it deep in thought. Xander's gaze went to the doorway. With a snap of his fingers they were returned to the would-be execution of Prince Jarvan. Sylas started his speech; one that unnerved her on the day, and now truly disturbed her. Xander watched on, then paused half way through.

"It seems this Runeterra isn't quite canon," he declared, "Though, only in a few ways."

"What do you mean?" Aislynn asked in turn.

"Sylas' speech is far shorter in canon. I'd understand if Jarvan or Lux or even Garen had more to say, given how I tried to sneak the topic of mage equality into our childhood discussions, but Sylas changing things up makes no sense," Xander sighed, "Perhaps a butterfly effect is occurring?"

"As long as we're not caught in a tornado, I guess..." Aislynn looked away from Sylas and into the crowd. They had seemed like dots of skin tone on the day, but in the dreamscape she could see faces. Some she idly recognized faces from the day, in the streets and sewers and beyond. Others she couldn't tell.

"... were you present on the day of the riot?" She asked.

"I didn't lie before when I said no," Xander clarifies, "But, I didn't mention my boss' abilities."

"And what would those abilities be?"

"Astral projection would be the closest pop-term for it," Xander smiled, "He's also like me in that he also tamed a demon. He didn't have the knowledge of demon nature at the time, though, so he had to brute force it. Rather than having a buddy like I have Nocturne, he has a glorified power amp now."

Aislynn shuddered, "Another demon master... I guess he'd be an interesting guy... if not completely terrifying."

Xander laughed, "That sounds about right, at least when he's in battle mode."

With that statement made, Xander clapped once. The dream scene crumpled into itself like a singularity, returning to the starting void. Despite the violent transition, the two Dream mages continued their conversation.

"And when he's not?" She asked.

Xander gripped his chin in thought, the replied, "Imagine Tywin Lannister, but in Lucius Malfoy's body, with Nick Fury's job."

"That is only slightly better."

"Then his PR efforts worked like a charm," Xander smiled.

"Sure," Aislynn sent a quizzical look to Xander, "Wait, if you already saw this through your boss' vision, why did you want to see mine?"

"He only saw the initial vision. I wanted to see the aftermath," Xander answered, "Furthermore, I plan to use these memories for dreams in the future. Having all the details helps."

"Future dreams, or nightmares?"

"Whichever gets the job done," Xander rose from his bed with a smile, "Ultimately it isn't about fear. It's about the message."

As Xander opened his bunk's door to escort her out, Aislynn asked a final question, "And the message is?"

"For all the blood that's been shed - by both sides - there was a reason we - or rather, you guys - started it," Xander answered, "They need to see the error of their ways. Only then can we change this country."

"I'll have to wish you luck then: you've got quite the task ahead of you."

"And you. Unless you want to wait for my help in restructuring your rebel sect."

Aislynn smirked, "You may be a better dream mage than me but you're still a recruit for the rebellion. Now, don't die out there. I still need to introduce you to the cause."

"You really think I'd die?" Xander laughed off the concern, then calmed to a sincere smile, "If I'm not dying, neither are you. Keep you and yours safe. From the Mageseekers and anything else."

"If any characters come into play, I'll tell them you sent me."

"Please don't; I'd like to keep the surprise factor," Xander sent a two-finger salute, "See you in a week."

"And you."

From his salute, Xander snapped his fingers.

"That's it, Nocturne," the dream mage said.

The void grew even darker, and Aislynn felt it pull her away. Like rising to the surface from the depths of the ocean, Aislynn awoke. She squinted as first dawn pierced the curtains of the rebel hideout. Orange hues illuminated the shadowy form of Xander's messenger.

"I'll be taking my leave now," Nocturne rasped.

"I suppose he will need your help in the capitol," Aislynn mumbled her reply. Even after multiple nights of the demon acting as a conduit for the two dream mages, she still felt unnerved by its presence. Yet... "I won't be able to dream with Xander whilst he's in the capitol, will I?"

"It would likely be a futile effort," Nocturne answered, "I was able to break into the capitol dreaming with Xander, but the... abundance of petricite makes it difficult. Dream mage you may be, but the dreams of men are _my_ domain."

Aislynn, despite her fear, smirked, "But I'm no man."

Nocturne growled, "I believe the word Xander told me was semantics."

Aislynn flinched, then waved the demon off, "Go be with your master now. He'll need your help."

"It's _summoner_..."

As the rising sun brightened the room, Nocturne shrank into the shadows. The demonic chill the Eternal Nightmare emanated faded, and Aislynn felt her heart rate slow. She sighed and chuckled. Between his apparent expertise and a demon friend, there probably was no reason to fear. At least, in that facet...

A knock on her door snapped her from her thoughts once more.

Knowing who was beyond the door, Aislynn called, "Come in."

* * *

"Trouble in paradise?"

"It wasn't a date, it was an interrogation," Xander sighed as he rose from his wooden seat, "Is this revenge for the teasing I gave you and Yin?"

Yin wrapped her lover in a hug whilst sending Xander a shit-eating grin. That Erret wasn't his stoic self and imitating Yin was enough of an answer. And, of course, Gerris found it hilarious.

"Anyways..." Xander straightened his posture as he changed the subject, "We've got a couple hours' cruise or so till we reach the capitol, lets use it."

The Left Hand of Noxus motioned to the map of the Capitol their host had bought for him the day prior. Unlike the maps Elia had bought them all for daily use, Xander's was marked with notes. Scrawled lines highlighted escape routes used by mages, whilst crosses highlighted major threats.

"Our host doesn't have much planned for tonight, does she?" Aislynn asked.

"Nah," was Gerris' basic answer, "And I bet you'll be wanting to use that free time, eh Xander?"

"Actually, no," Xander replied, "If suspicious actions were taken in the Capitol the day two ex-Arbormark mages arrived in it, Yin and I would be major suspects. I don't plan on making moves until halfway through the week."

"I see. But you'll still want to be productive, though."

"Of course," Xander smiled, "We'll be doing recon tonight. Three groups, asking around for information."

"Three?" Erret asked.

"Three; you and I take middle-class, Yin takes aristocrats, Gerris takes workers."

"Any reason you're deviating from our old plan?" Yin questioned.

"Well, it's the Capitol. There are more people than I have fingers that could recognize me, and one that definitely would," Xander explained, "In order to keep appearances, I'll still need to be with you during the day. But, minimizing the time I spend in palace grounds is the safer option."

Yin shrugged, "Fair enough. Guess I'll be the only one finding useful information."

Erret snorted before turning to Xander, "Yin sounds about right here. She'll obviously be taking note about all the politics in the capitol. Anything we'll be doing that's interesting?"

"Of course," Xander smiled, "Gerris, you'll be happy to know that our job just might be dangerous for once."

The ex-reckoner chuckled, "Explain, then."

Motioning to the map, Xander pointed to a small building near the grand plaza and the palace citadel.

"We'll be tracking these," Xander said, "These are sewage hubs. Built into a few buildings, they give access to the whole cities' sewage system. The mages used them as escape routes back during the riots. When we act, we'll do the same."

From the sewage hub he was pointing to, Xander's pointer finger down a drawn line to one nearby a sizable square.

"Erret, you and I will be visiting this one tonight," The Left Hand said, "It's relatively close to the Mageseeker's Headquarters. Through the sewers should be a twenty minute walk."

Xander then trailed his hand down the line to another sewage hub. A red line intersected with it, leading through a local forest to a house near the docks.

"Gerris, this hub will be yours to explore. When we escape the sewers, we'll go through this hub. If they still are on to us at that point, we lose our pursuers in the forest. Then, we head on home before anyone's the wiser."

Gerris nodded, "Sure, I can check it out."

"And in a few days, our escape routes planned, we'll strike the Mageseeker Headquarters?" Erret chuckled awkwardly, "Well, we have done worse..."

"It's hardly a strike, though breaking out the mages in there is definitely a goal for the future," Xander clarified, "No, when we decide to act, you, Yin, and Gerris are going to sneak in and steal info."

"Mageseeker movement around the country, I imagine?" Gerris assumed.

"That, and petricite movement, any basic standards of operation we can learn, and more," Xander affirmed, "Though, there is one thing I'd like to confirm. I doubt anyone wrote it down on something we can steal, but if possible it would definitely be a key weapon for us."

"Would this be an artifact, perhaps? Some scroll containing a mighty spell confiscated by the local magic police?"

"Hardly. I'm looking for information," Xander's smirk gained that malicious look that signaled understanding of forbidden knowledge, "What I hope you guys can find is documented proof that it was the Mageseekers who killed the late King Jarvan."

Even predicting a shocking statement, the team was left stunned. Disbelief was clear on all their faces. Yin was the first to verbally express it.

"That can't be right, I thought Sylas was the one to kill the late King."

"He certainly would've liked to take blame, but no, he didn't," Xander said, "King Jarvan died the day of the riot, that much is true. But the circumstances of it are likely unrelated to Sylas' revolution."

Gerris raised an eyebrow, "And you know this due to your... ahem, sources, shall we say?"

"Yes, and my contact confirmed it with her memories," Xander answered, "Sylas stormed the Citadel of Dawn, hoping to bring the king down to his level before killing him. They breached the main hall and defeated the local guard, including Prince Jarvan. They then stormed the residence sector, only to find the king lying on his bedroom floor, dead. No sign of a conflict was present; it was as of the king decided to nap on the floor and simply never woke up. Sylas interrogated everyone present, but no one claimed to kill the king."

"And you suspect the Mageseekers killed him?" Yin asked.

"It was the common theory in the fanbase, and there's reason for it to happen," Xander elaborated, "Based on what we know, it seems the late king was opposed to the... treatment the mages were getting. A story released suggested he'd even written a letter to the Head Mageseeker to stop the extreme protocols the organization was doing."

"I'm assuming there was a but?"

"Seneschal Xin Zhao was en route to the headquarters with the message the day of the Riot. Seeing the palace under siege, he immediately stopped his journey to turn back. By the time the day had ended, the letter was long forgotten. And even if that letter was a cease-and-desist, it's not like anyone would be willing to do that now."

Yin crossed her arms, "What does that mean, then?"

"The theory is that the Mageseekers were trying to make the most of a bad situation. Or maybe they even planned the whole thing. They knew their powers were about to take a royal hit, but here comes this questionable, charismatic mage who's set himself up to be the monster everyone in this country believes mages are. So, they kill the king just as Sylas is there to take the fall. And with that..."

"The king who wanted to restrain them is replaced by a grieving son willing to give them power to get his supposed vengeance," Erret finished.

"... My literacy may be getting to you," Xander smirked.

"It was only a matter of time," the saboteur sighed, "Though, I have learned much good from you over the years..."

A proud smile on his face, Xander listed, "Empathy and morality, imagination, lucid dreaming and all its benefits..."

"And the ability to catch obscure details in conversations," Erret snapped the Left Hand from his ego trance with with his sharpened point, "Now explain what you're going to do when we're stealing paperwork."

Xander first flinched, then said, "... I was going to tell you."

"You didn't want to, so I had to make sure," Erret explained, "Now, out with it."

"I could... but I'm sure you guys know me well enough by now."

Erret's dead pan lasted all of five seconds before Gerris explained with a sigh, "He's going to storm the palace to play mind games with his old friends."

Though Xander smiled, he at least had the respect to let mischievous shame show in his eyes.

"Couldn't have said it better myself."

Yin groaned in irritation. Her lover was only somewhat better, silently thinking.

"I'm assuming you're going to be a distraction for us when we sneak into the Mageseeker Headquarters," Erret said, shaking his head, "Who do you plan to target?"

"Luxanna Crownguard and Prince Jarvan," Xander answered, "One is naturally inclined to help mages, the other owes me big."

"For saving him back in the day," Gerris recalled with a chuckle, "You really did plan everything, huh?"

"Not really, I told him to try make life better for mages as a Hail Mary."

"Hail Mary?"

"Ah, right, Earthen slang. It means it was a last-resort long shot that likely wouldn't go anywhere. Term's a reference to religion."

"Ah," Gerris shook his head, "Well, it didn't seem to land, given everything. You really think that debt will be enough?"

"To end the revolution? Likely not. But, it's going to be the final straw," Xander elaborated, "Both of my targets have doubts, but hold the belief that they're in the right. For this whole operation my plan is to set up doubts. Before I strike, I'll be using dreams to haunt them. Memories of me for Jarvan, memories of Sylas for Lux, flashbacks to the Riot for both."

"Will that be safe, reminding the prince of your identity?" Yin asked.

"A bit, but not too terrible. At least, from the Noxian point of view," Xander replied, "I never told him of my plan to switch sides. All we ever talked about was mage injustices; it was related to why I left, after all. If he suspects it's me, he'll only be able to latch onto the Sylas link. Hell, given that it might actually be better; having his childhood friend side with his enemy over him... Regardless, all that matters is my not getting caught on the day of the strike."

Gerris assumed with a deadpan, "On which day you'll talk shit but not kill anyone, I imagine."

"If I can do so without getting caught, of course," Xander smiled, "I mean, think of the imagery. Here strolls in this pinnacle image of evil; a mage possessed by a shadow demon who may or may not be relayed to Noxus. He declares that you're the evil one deserving of judgement, yet whilst he has every opportunity to kill you he doesn't; he also doesn't kill your men, only neutralizing them with, at worse, single dismemberments. When the dust settles, I expect much thinking will be done. As I build up encounters with both Lux and Jarvan, their doubts will deepen. And soon enough, they'll break."

"A long con, then. Well, I suppose so are revolutions, so you'll have a lot of time to work with," Erret nodded to himself, "Erm...Yeah. We actually got this."

Yin sent Erret a quizzical look, "Got this how?"

"We might as well have a vacation at Mageseeker HQ. Xander'll run circles around the palace guards for hours. I mean, he's shady enough just him being the madman he is. No offense."

"None taken," the Left Hand replied, "It is the truth."

"Right, anyway, think on that. How long do you think he can keep their attention when he's actually trying?"

"Quite long," Gerris interjected, "But what about surviving for that period of time? I mean, I get it, he's skilled. To beat even a dream of Viscero once you'd need to be. But taking the attention of an entire army?"

Yin glanced at Erret, "Well, he did a decent job running from the Black Rose..."

Xander smiled, "I'll have Nocturne to bail me out. Trust me, I've got this. And besides; we still have a few days to plan this out."

"Fair enough," Gerris said, "So, that's the plan for the week. Scout a few locations, strike half way through, then twiddle our thumbs hoping we aren't caught on the way out."

"Basically."

"Great," Gerris sighed, "Anything else we should know?"

"...Nothing that isn't theory work," Xander answered, "...You want another shot at Viscero?"

The ex-reckoner simply sat from his chair and lied upon his hammock.

"Get me in."

"Alright. You've got ten rounds."

A few seconds of rune magic later, and Gerris was off to the land of dreams. The remaining Noxians glanced at each other.

"You guys want a nap?" Xander offered.

"No, we're good. And I'd rather be up and awake if anything happens when we get to the capitol," Erret reasoned.

"Oh, and Lady Elia asked to speak with you on the deck," Yin added, "Something about your comments on Mistress LeBlanc?"

"Ah, took her long enough," Xander stood up and sent a two-finger salute as he walked out the room, "Enjoy your time together."

"Yeah, because we'd do anything for within 5 feet radius of Gerris."

"I didn't say anything."

"Go piss off someone else, Xan."

"I will!"

Xander didn't pay attention to any final words the lover's may have sent his way. Instead, his ears went with his eyes; skyward. Through the cabin doors a morning sky shone. As he stepped past the creaky wood, the Left Hand noticed a few clouds frame the skyline. Combined with the fresh scent of the river and the sight of travelers on its banks, bordered with faraway mountain peaks... Xander could almost imagine it was a royal yacht he sailed on, and not the average merchant's barge.

"Ah, Xander," Lady Elia's voice called, "Just the man I wished to see; come here."

_It seems fate really wants to twist that knife,_ Xander thought with a sigh, _I get it: I'm not with the Royals! Friggin..._

Turning from the door to face Lady Elia's ignorant back, Xander replied with as sarcastic a voice he could muster, "I have arrived, my lady. I believe you wished to discuss my... etiquette, shall we say."

Lady Elia laughed, "There's no need be subtle. This is ship and its crew were all sourced from Sharpstem."

"Well, was I wrong?"

"No, for the most part," Lady Elia answered, "Ultimately I can't stop you from slandering my mistress' name. I am taking notes, though; you can expect an assassin when you return to Noxus."

"Waste of a perfectly good assassin," Xander shrugged, walking forward to lean upon the boat's railing by Elia's side.

"But... the mistress is related to this topic," the lady of Sharpstem continued, "I've read your file. The mistress has been most generous indeed. I know you."

"Is that so?"

"The report was most detailed. I know of your origins in this country, as well as your military history; every mission you've taken for Noxus... I even know about demons you've associated with, including the one you invited into my lands. I don't know how I feel about that latter one..."

"Then you know who I am," Xander stated, "I think I see where this is going."

"Do you?" Lady Elia narrowed her eyes, "You've betrayed the Black Rose. Brought it to its lowest point. Truth be told, I'm surprised you're even alive right now."

"If you did read my file, you clearly didn't do so thoroughly. I'm not even the first person to defy the Black Rose in his century," Xander shook his head, "And yes, I did see how this conversation would go perfectly. You've been tasked to reaffirm my allegiance to Noxus. On that end, you need not worry; my friends are doing a better job of that than any number of threats your mistress can send my way."

"Oh, I'm insulted."

At the sound of the familiar voice, Xander immediately turned around. Rather than looking at the seductive figure in front of him, he looked to the floor. As expected, lightly drawn runes glowed with active magic.

"Ah. So that's why you needed the week of prep time. Good work, I must say," Xander regarded Elia with an amused smile before turning his attention to the summoned illusion, "So, LeBlanc... I see you ditched the stripper outfit. What do I owe the pleasure?"

The Pale Mistress of the Immortal Bastion had changed her wardrobe. Whilst she still wore her many gold accessories and her cape, an intricate military dress replaced her usual attire of glorified lingerie. Not that Xander had brought it up before, given the power discrepancy between them then. Of course, that was then. Between the continent separating them and the defeats LeBlanc had suffered in part due to Xander's actions, the Left Hand felt safe in making his comments.

LeBlanc didn't seem to mind either, but Xander could never be sure with the Deciever, "My subordinate has done well enough to tell you that, or has the Demacian climate clogged your ears?"

"It hasn't. Though I must say this is an exercise in redundancy," Xander shrugged, "I have no intention to betray Noxus."

LeBlanc smiled, "And why should I believe that?"

"I may not currently be in Noxus, but between my team and House Sharpstem, both you and the General have ways to kill me."

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" LeBlanc chuckled as she approached, her eyes holding a predatory glint, "Your team may have sworn oaths to Noxus, but I am not foolish enough to think that guarantees their loyalty. And even if they did forsake you, I sincerely doubt they'd be able to kill you."

"...Sure, maybe I could defeat them. Maybe, by some miracle, I'm able to carve a path of carnage to escape House Sharpstem. But, that leaves me in Demacia; a nation that has no love for people like me."

"No people? You insult my intelligence now. Surely your old friends in the Capitol would take you in? I'm sure your father would be happy to welcome you back."

"That may be true, but given the bloody display my escape would be, the current political climate, and my open use of magic, there's every chance I'd be killed where I stand."

"A chance is not a guarantee," LeBlanc noted, "Unlike our dear General, I believe calculated risks are, in fact, risks. And I don't plan on taking any unnecessary risks with _you."_

"My fear of risks should dissuade your fears in turn, I hope," Xander replied, "I have nothing to gain by abandoning Noxus. I've spent far too long, invested so much. People call me the _Left Hand_. Unknown in that role I may be, I have influence. If I betray you, that's a lot of time, prestige, effort, all going to waste... and for what? The same position in a weaker nation? At best?"

Xander stepped forward with a shrug, sighing, "What do you want? Or rather, what can I do or say that can convince you that I'm not going to turn traitor?"

The Deciever feigned a frown, "I fear nothing you say can convince me of that."

Xander met the facade with a sincere frown of his own, "If you wanted me dead you should've seen to it personally three weeks ago."

"Indeed," LeBlanc mused, "But, that isn't my wish."

"And that wish is?"

"Your undivided allegiance to Noxus."

"My words do not suffice?"

"Of course not," LeBlanc laughed, "Your words are correct: Swain and I cannot strike you, yet betraying us gains you nothing but a hole in Noxian soil should you return. But men do not make choices on logic alone. Ultimately, the loyalty of a man is determined by their nature."

Xander narrowed his eyes, "My nature?"

"Your morality. Your code. The compass by which you choose your actions," LeBlanc listed as she slowly approached, "Dissecting your core has been quite a struggle. Your shuffling between your Demacian and Noxian tendencies made it hard to find your priority. But ultimately, I've found that whilst you've adopted a stellar Noxian exterior, you still have a Demacian heart."

Whilst he doubted LeBlanc thought he'd been a Demacian spy all this time, Xander didn't want to risk misinterpretation. He remained silent as his grimace deepened. LeBlanc continued.

"Despite your cynicism, you want to be a hero; like those the people in the country speak about. Just, generous, noble, all those values Demacia pretends to uphold, but ultimately falls short at. It's why you came to Noxus. Where Demacia failed, you saw success in Noxus, even if it came at a price. Yet, even as you paid that price your Demacian heart never faded."

"And what does that have to do with my allegiances?" Xander cautiously asked.

"Oh, it has everything to do with it," LeBlanc replied like she were an elementary teacher speaking to a child, "Your words mean nothing to me, because ultimately my words are what seals your allegiance."

Xander fought the urge to flinch as LeBlanc stepped forward and raised a hand.

The Deciever weaved her words, "Your mission to save this country... even I can see it is a noble cause. But, it is not necessary for us to take this kingdom. And you know that."

At the touch of LeBlanc's hand on his cheek, Xander couldn't deny a reaction. His gaze momentarily moved to the hand, then returned to LeBlanc's blazing gold eyes.

"The fate of Demacia is in your hands. Not just concerning the revolution, but also how we will act. Within your lifetime, Demacia's gates will open to the legion, one way or another..."

Xander glared, seeing the threat before LeBlanc said it, "You threaten me with Demacian deaths."

The Pale Woman smirked and delivered her ultimatum, "You know how it goes. Stand with Noxus, and you will be the one opening those gates. Stand against us, and your corpse and the corpses of your loved ones will fertilize our newly gained fields. The choice is yours."

"...what a choice."

"Indeed," LeBlanc backed away, and amused smile on her face, "I trust you know where your allegiances stand."

"I always knew," Xander swallowed his frown, but no smile took its place, "I never needed a reminder. And I don't think you did either."

"No. Swain did, but I know better in this case," the Deceiver chuckled, "You can appreciate the irony, no?"

"Maybe if you didn't just threaten everything I hold dear with brutal genocide, I could," Xander chuckled dryly and approached, "Though if I may, I'd like to give a reminder of my own."

"Oh?" LeBlanc's gold eyes glinted with an almost royal arrogance, "Do tell."

"This isn't the first time you've reminded me of chains you've wrapped around my neck," the Left Hand pointed out with the ghost of a smile appearing on his face, "The last time you did, it didn't end up well for you."

"No, but all the petricite in Demacia won't win you a war with Noxus," LeBlanc smiled, "You won't be turning this table, my dear."

"I won't be, but that doesn't mean I can't have my own petty vengeances," the Left Hand looked down upon LeBlanc, an amiable smile on his face, "I do hope you enjoy my absence."

"Oh, I am, thank you for caring," LeBlanc waved off Xander, "With Raum's risk ever present, Jericho's-"

The Deciever never finished her sentence. The Left Hand sent a palm of nightmare magic into her face. LeBlanc's self-assured smirk gave way to a terrified scream as she fell to the deck. Her grip on her magic back in Noxus faded, and her illusion on the ship followed. As the form of LeBlanc turned to dust on the wind, Xander sighed with satisfaction.

_Even immortals need to sleep,_ the apparition he'd sent LeBlanc's way would threaten, _I won't kill you, but I don't need to. I can bring you a hell of my own making, so don't fucking try me!_

The words were simple - weak even - but with enough emotions charged in his sepll, Xander figured he could've stolen a script from My Little Pony and still made it terrifying. Of course, that left him in a deficit for terror, so he'd need Nocturne to top him up later...

Xander shook his head and turned to Elia, channeling a different emotion.

"For the record, Miss, I have nothing against you," Xander assured, "Your employer can be a bitch, and may order you to do questionable shit, but I won't hold it against you."

He clearly didn't use enough. Lady Elia responded with a tone halfway between cheeky and terrified.

"Appreciated, but regardless, you would deal with me as a threat, s-so..." Elia shook her head, "Just don't get me killed, one way or another."

"I'll put you to sleep quickly."

"LeBlanc told me about your demon; no offence, but I want more than that!"

"Sure, sure, we'll lay off your subconscious too."

The Lady of Sharpstem groaned in exasperation, then turned to go back to the ship's quarters, "You really are as dangerous as she said. Wolf take me. Don't bother me until we get to the capitol."

Before Xander responded, Elia had already stepped down below deck. The Left Hand sighed, leaning in the ships railing.

"Sorry to say that won't be much time," he whispered, mostly to himself.

In the distance, upon a grassy plateau, with white petricite towers reaching to the sky like fingers, the crown jewel of the kingdom lay. The Great City of Demacia awaited.

* * *

The abundance of soldiers in the tavern was the first thing Erret noticed.

It wasn't hard to notice. The silver globes of Demacian helms dotted the tavern; on the tables of reserve soldiers off duty; on the laps of men on patrol, sneaking in a drink; on heads of particularly idiotic patrons. They were everywhere, and if they were somehow caught Erret figured it would be quite an accomplishment to escape.

Thankfully, it likely wouldn't come to that. He was dressed in a sharp uniform made ruffled with use. With blue pants, brown boots, and an old grey shirt, Erret looked like any of the other soldiers at the tavern. And as ifthat wasn't enough, Xander was wearing what he thought was a decent Mageseeker cosplay. If only Mageseekers would be seen anywhere without their fancy masks, or in a bar as seedy as where they were at. At least, that was his idea; the Mageseekers seems a very elitist group to Erret. Helping the aristocracy and all...

Bearing two filled mugs, a tavern waitress called, "Your drinks, sirs."

Xander, sitting opposite him, eagerly took the drinks. More so than usual, Erret figured. After thanking the attendant and handing him his drink, Xander gulped half of his own down. He sighed and blinked as the alcohol made its way through his system.

Erret took a cautious sip from his own mug then spoke, "You seem antsy."

"Do I?" Xander chuckled, "Well, shit..."

"Is the... ahem, climate not doing it for you?"

"No, has nothing to do with that," The Left Hand paused, then leaned in, " _The Mistress_ called."

"LeBlanc?" Erret's voice held a restrained horror.

"Well, not _exactly_ her, but yeah."

_Oh, so it was a messenger of some kind. Must've been what Lady Elia actually called him over for._

Erret took another sip then asked, "You want to talk about it?"

Xander chuckled, "For once, there actually isn't much to talk about. All she did was threaten me with the destruction of all I hold dear, which I only take seriously because, well, it is her, after all."

"Is this for your betraying her?"

"Of course! And honestly just being threatened for something which already applied is a pretty lenient punishment. I still need to save this country and all that, a few extra lose conditions change little," Xander gulped from his mug again, "No pressure, huh?"

Erret laughed, then awkwardly sighed, "Heh, yeah... thanks for dragging us along."

"You guys chose to accompany me, that's on you!"

"Yeah, yeah fair," Erret smiled and raised his glass, "To the cause."

The old mugs clacked together as Erret and Xander toasted. As they drank, Erret noticed Xander's gaze go over his shoulder _._ The Left Hand's haze quickly returned to meet his.

"Chill, it's nothing big," Xander said. He laid his mug on the table then grasped Erret's wrist.

Erret responded mentally, _It's something big, isn't it?_

_Relatively,_ Xander replied, _Someone's giving me a dirty look._

_Description? I can go over and take him out._

Xander sent him an amused look, _You'd do if the guy was a Dauntless captain?_

Erret gaped at his mistake then quickly filled his mouth's void with drink.

Xander chuckled, _Of course, I'm just fucking with you; my watcher looks to be a peasant. Wearing a brown robe. Brown hair, blue eyes, some stubble. Kinda shady; we could get the soldiers on him without much trouble._

_Use your magic to implicate him? That's cold._

_Indeed, which is reason one for why we won't be doing it,_ Xander reached into his robes for something, _Let's see if there's a number two._

From his robes Xander held something in a tightened fist. The Left Hand glanced around, briefly maintaining his gaze with their observer before opening his hand. Erret widened his eyes at the sight of a small, ornate stone pendant. Or rather, as it was commonly called...

_You have a Graymark?_

_Back when I lived here, I had to fight a few Mageseekers to stay free,_ Xander explained, _Sometimes I had to be lethal. Got some loot out of it, though, so it works out._

_But how are you holding it without activating it?_

_I've told you about the petricite magic cap, right?_ Xander chuckled, _Petricite absorbs magic, it doesn't destroy it. Of course, it does it with a potency that basically makes the affect the same, if not literally, but..._

_So you've been sitting on it long enough that it can't react anymore._

_Yep. Same deal with many of the rebels. One of them, by the way, is definitely the guy looking at me._

Even after many missions with the same scenario, Erret had to resist turning around to look.

_Because he thinks you're a Mageseeker?_

_Yes._

After gripping harder on the stone for a second, Xander put the Graymark on their table and drank the rest of his mug. He tapped Erret by the hand, and the saboteur quickly caught the signal and followed suit.

_He'll probably try trail me after I leave,_ Xander mused, _I'll go ahead as bait; you trail us both. I'll lead him to our drain. You engage from behind. Take the Graymark; I've absorbed some magic back, so it should work to find the guy, just in case you lose him._

Erret let his mug down over the mark. With a flick, he pulled the stone to him; it caught itself against his shirt and bounced back below his arm.

_What're you going to do with the guy?_ Erret asked.

Xander smirked _, Interrogation, maybe coercion. My contact said Sylas had some spies stick around the Capitol. That's an asset and a half for us if I play it right. But of course, we need to catch this guy first._

_Right. Good luck._

_We really won't need it. Keep up, and this shouldn't take long._

Xander let go of his wrist, stood up, and said aloud, "Got to go. Pay for the drinks, would ya?"

Erret chuckled, "You owe me, then."

Xander nodded with a self-assured smirk and sauntered off. After brief intermission, a man in a dirty hood walked past Erret, no doubt after Xander. With full minute of wait-time for masquerading normalcy and a few gold coins paying for the drinks, Erret took to the streets.

A few steps into his leave, the saboteur regretted waiting the full minute. As he scanned the district he was in, he found little in the way of hidden alleys or subtle climbing spots. Not that rooftop parkour was much of an option, what with the Capital being nearly exclusively Petricite; people, in his experience, didn't look up often, but when they did they'd easily be able to notice his dark clothing against the white stone roofs. The only thing helping his stealth was the setting sun, the shining oranges on the walls turning to purple then blue. Of course, that helped his target too.

Thankfully, as he got further away from the bar the patrol density lessened. Less watching eyes to catch him, less bodies to distinguish from his target. Yet, even then, he couldn't distinguish his target well. Of the men on the street, at least half wore similarly shaded hoods. Erret shook his head.

_Fuck it. Hope you can hang solo for a little bit, Xan; I don't know my way around yet._

As the saboteur followed the vaguely recalled directions, his hand went to his pocket. Hiding Xander's Graymark in his sleeve, he glanced down at it as if it were a stopwatch. As he turned by each street, the stone seemed to glow brighter. With the sky darkening, it seemed it wasn't a trick of the light.

After glancing around and finding no patrols on his next street, Erret aimed the Graymark at a series of backs. He strutted closer, delving deep into a crowd of city-goers.

_No, no... no, not him... where is this-_

The Graymark pinged silver.

_There-_

He walked into someone not on a brown cloak. Erret was slightly aware of the person he ran into falling over, but one of said persons' friends stepping past to berate him took more of his attention.

"Oh, sorry-"

"Sorry are you?" The protective one said, adorned in simple yet refined robes. Perhaps he was an aristocrat mage living scot free?

"We have places to be!

"I-I'm sorry for running into your friend," Erret began with a stutter, playing a role he'd played many times, "I've had a long day, I wasn't paying attention-"

"It's fine," a calm, light voice spoke from behind the man, "Elren, I'm sure he meant nothing wrong by it. "

Elren stepped to the side and turned to speak with his coworker, "Yes, well, we have places to be - you especially!"

"We were going to be late regardless. And I'm sure the Prince won't mind."

Erret gaped, and tried to play off his recollection by latching to the woman's words. All the while he cursed every god and goddess he knew of for the predicament he was in.

"You know the Prince?"

"Of course," Luxanna Crownguard replied with smile, ignorant of the panic she was giving Erret, "We've been friends since childhood."

Erret cleared his throat, "Er... wow. I, uh... who?"

"Lux Crownguard, good to meet you, mister?"

"Erwen," Erret mumbled in reply. He'd caught his bearing, but being unsure probably was the safer play.

Elren cut in, "My lady, we should go."

Lux's cheery smile didn't fade at all, even as she turned away from the conversation, "Of course. Have a good evening!"

"You as well, Lady Crownguard."

The Lady strolled off, flanked by a party of similarly dressed people. Erret recalled Xander's report of the Lady, and how she'd found employment under the charitable pseudo-religious group called the Illuminators. It seemed that group was closely tied with the monarchy, though that may have just been their relation with a Crownguard coming into effect. Regardless...

Erret's thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by a clap across his back.

"Took your sweet time, huh?" Xander chided.

"I've had enough surprises for today, Xan," Erret shook his head, "Did you get the spy?"

"Yeah. When I didn't see you I sped my run. He followed straight into the drain," Xander smirked, "Since you've had 'a long day', head back home. I'll deal with the guy."

"On your own?"

"A single guy? Yeah, I got it. Having another guy - who looks like he's in military gear, by the way - would just make him scared or pissed."

Erret frowned with suspicion then shook his head, "I'll leave you to it. Should I go out or through the sewers?"

"... sewers," Xander said, sneaking them both through a wooden door, "Tell me how long it takes you when I get back."

"Of course. I'll tell you how bad the shit smells too," Erret smirked, "Oh, and before I leave-"

"Yeah, the Illuminators. Just managed to slip by them on my way," The Left Hand shook his head, "Nearly gave me a heart attack; damn lucky she didn't see me."

"You have an idea of what's going on?"

"Between the Crownguards and Lightshields? Yeah, there was mentions of a betrothal in the source material; it's probably going through now," Xander explained, "Good for me; hitting the two birds is easier when they're closer together."

Erret hummed, "Also riskier, but I suppose challenging an army solo is risky enough."

The Noxians stepped down stone stairs to a room that stank lightly and was illuminated by a single torch. Tied to a pillar at the corner of the room was the pursuer, who worked himself into a frenzy upon seeing them both.

"Brought a friend to get your hands dirty, eh?" He taunted.

Xander shook his head, "He's getting his pants dirty and going home. Then you and I can chat like civilized mages."

"So you're a Mageseeker and a traitor!"

Erret glanced at Xander, "You sure you can do this?"

Xander glowed his eyes in response and formed a rune in the air.

Their captive gaped, "Wha-"

"Go to sleep," Xander commanded. The rune placed itself on the man's head, and he quickly followed the Left Hand's command. With that, Xander looked back to Erret, amused, "I'm certain I can."

"You and your..." Erret shook his head, "Gotta say, the more I see how useful your magic is, the less I admire your past accomplishments."

"Sorry I'm just not that good," Xander laughed, sitting down next to the mage and untying his ropes, "I'll see you later."

"Sure. Happy napping."

The Left Hand smirked, drew the dream rune upon his head, and closed his eyes. Save for the trickle of the sewage system, the room was silent. With little else to do, Erret sighed. After a moment's hesitation, he waded into the sewers, stepping into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be around 6k words and released last week, and now here I am with my longest chapter to date. Why do I do this to myself? Ah yes, because writing is fun...
> 
> Well, this is the start of the next arc; an arc which is lowkey the reason I started this fic. Hope I can keep it interesting.
> 
> Thanks for the support thus far. Please leave a comment; I appreciate any feedback I get for the fix, as it can help me improve or show where I'm succeeding. See you next chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

"A shadow fades before the light."

It had been many years since she repeated that phrase. It had gone out of fashion quickly, as her concerns changed from containment to concealment; as fear turned to frustration. Even as a new problems rose and new pains accordingly, she hadn't returned to that childhood mantra. Yet, in the wake of that... suffering...

Luxanna Crownguard repeated the mantra again, exhaled, and relaxed.

Or at least tried to. Between the sound of a swaying breeze, the chill of a nightly mist, her armor faintly reflecting the moon's silver glow, and her still beating heart, much kept the light mage awake. Her eyes flickered to the door before she rose, channeling her magic to her fingertips. Ever since she'd accepted it, her inner light had provided Lux a bastion of safety and comfort. Already she could feel her warmth melt the freeze of fear away. Sadly, that wasn't the only thing she felt. For one, there was a throbbing headache from her sudden awakening. That was easily fixed with a trip to the pantry, however. As for the other, more irksome problem...

As she walked the dark halls, her mind also wandered. Something at the back of her mind told her she was missing something. A vision from her dream that disappeared as she woke. A detail from her past, or maybe it was a secret, or fear? Sadly, not even after reflecting on it for a good few minutes could Lux remember the answer to her question.

A return to the past of sorts sadly didn't help. Originally made simply for storage, the royal pantry had gone through changes of order during her childhood. Of course, it was still rimmed with cabinets; some were filled with aged items like wine and cured meats, others freshly refilled. But, at the center of the room was a small table and a couple of chairs. In youth, Lux recalled many days spent with her brother and his friends here. The boys ate eagerly after their training, whilst she was content to watch and smile. Eventually some of the adults joined in as well; their parents always did care for them. Yet, as she grew, she suspected they'd realized was certainly more efficient to get coffee from the pantry than to ask a servant to bring a cup from the kitchen. She couldn't help but agree.

"Lux? Is that you?"

At the sound of the voice, Lux immediately turned to the door. There, she found a silhouette. Illuminated by lantern light, the familiar face seemed to be, like her, in the awkward state between drowsy and awake. Despite her own headache, Lux smiled.

"Jarvan," she greeted, "Good evening."

"It's morning, actually, I think," Jarvan yawned, then shut his mouth quickly, sobering suddenly, "Excuse me, er..."

Lux stopped herself from giggling but replied with a smile that betrayed her thoughts, "You are excused."

With the creak of wood, the prince of Demacia stepped into the pantry. As he laid down his lantern on the table, the prince glanced with amusement at the drink she was preparing.

"Still drinking warm milk?" he asked.

"It helped me sleep when I was young, it can do so tonight," Lux replied with a defensive tone, "Or this morning, rather."

"Fair enough," Jarvan conceded, "Could you, err..."

"You took yours with a spoon of honey, right?"

After a pause, Jarvan nodded, "... thanks, Luxanna."

Lux briefly squinted at the sound of her name, but did not push on the topic, "You're welcome..."

As Lux prepared Jarvan's drink, the prince sat and asked another question.

"...How did you remember that?"

"Remember what? That you liked warm milk with honey?" the slightest slip of frustration expressed itself in Lux's voice, "Wish I knew."

"So do I," Jarvan sighed, "What keeps you up tonight?"

"By tonight you mean this morning?" Lux joked.

Jarvan chuckled, but some tension remained, "Yes."

Unseen by the prince, Lux chewed her lip in apprehension. Flashes of the dream replayed themselves before her mind's eye. The wails of the imprisoned mages before they were freed, the soldiers guarding them like statues, the chained man in the vault...

"... a nightmare," Lux let out, "I'd rather not talk about it. You?"

"Also a nightmare," Jarvan confessed, then continued, "I was back at the Gates of Mourning, fighting Noxians."

"Your campaign to free the Argent Mountains," Lux remembered.

Her brother had joined Jarvan on that expedition. Three months of anxious waiting later she received a letter from him claiming the prince had gone missing. A month after that, small relief came when Garen returned; two somber months after that and the prince himself had returned. Only, the prince had changed. Garen had changed too when he first arrived, but at Jarvan's return most of those somber differences faded . Not for Jarvan, though; he still held himself somberly, and his shoulders seemed tight and burdened. The prince had died, Lux had heard; the king-to-be was born in his place.

And with his father dead, it was only a matter of time before Jarvan formally took on the burden of kingship.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lux asked, "I'm sorry if I'm intruding-"

"No, it's alright," Jarvan smiled somberly, "I'll need to get it out somehow, and I don't think Xin Zhao's awake right now."

As the prince cleared his throat again, Lux took their drinks from the warming fires and handed Jarvan his. The prince sipped from the cup and made an expression between laughter and a grimace.

"Sweet."

"How you liked it?" Lux stressed the past tense, assuming a change.

Jarvan chuckled, "It's good, just... how did I chug mugs of this?"

Lux shrugged as she drank herself, "I guess coffee ruined your taste buds?"

"Among other things," Jarvan chuckled, "You couldn't imagine the things your brother and I have had to eat on deployment."

"It can't be so bad, can it?"

"Well, cooked ant was surprisingly good..."

At Lux's grimace, the prince laughed.

"You didn't actually," she began.

"We did," Jarvan insisted, before his smile faded, "We did..."

"Jarvan?"

"I'm fine, just..." the prince sighed, "The dream wasn't all bad. Started with the good parts. My men fighting with me, winning battles. Then we were surrounded. The arrows flew, and they died around me..."

Lux interrupted, "You don't have to go there if you want to."

"No... no I don't, but... I think you could help me," Jarvan explained, "I remember this fight. 'Twas against a Noxian mage using blood, I think. I got disarmed, and I was outnumbered, then someone saved me."

Lux noticed the implication with raised eyebrows, "You don't remember them? But I thought-"

"That I'd personally visited all the families of the men who died for me upon my return... I did do that, yet..." Jarvan sighed and gave Lux a sad smile, "I... well, I'm sure you can see why I've been going on and in about it."

Lux nodded, "I'll help how I can."

"I appreciate it," Jarvan gave a sad chuckle then trailed on, "But, er, if I can't remember my memories, I'm not sure you could..."

Lux crossed her arms, "I thought you wanted my help."

"I do, it's just that I may have set you up for an impossible task," the prince shrugged weakly, "I'm all ears for any suggestions."

"Well, Jarvan-" Lux's words died in her mouth; or rather, there weren't any to begin with. She thought for a moment, then, with an awkward smile, suggested, "Maybe, if you stop thinking hard about it, it will just naturally come to you?"

Jarvan gave an amused, pointed look.

"Ok, I see what you mean," Lux conceded, "But I won't stop; I'll figure it out, don't worry!"

"Thank you, Luxanna," Jarvan gave a smirk, "If you need a book for it, I'll speak to the head librarian for you."

Lux smiled at the joke, but remained silent. Her gaze returned to her cup, which she then used to mask a frown. As she sipped, she thought; of her dream and of Jarvan's. She sighed at the comparison.

"Why're dreams so vague..."

"What was that?" Jarvan asked.

"Oh, I said that aloud?" Lux flinched, sighed, then giggled, "I must really need sleep..."

"Maybe," Jarvan yawned on cue, "That's probably a good idea. Do you want me to walk you back to your room?"

"Thank you for offering," Lux smiled, and she hoped Jarvan bought it.

They left the pantry soon after. Silence reigned over the darkened corridors, with pensive reflection as its consort. At least, it was in Lux's mind; she assumed Jarvan was also thinking on his dream, but how was she to know? It wasn't as though mind reading was her magic skill.

Lux pushed the digression to the side and returned to her thoughts on her dream. She recalled how she came to awareness, walking to the Mageseeker compound amidst a peaceful night. Magic thrummed at her hands, only to be consciously snuffed out as she entered the compound. It got worse from there as a Mageseeker guided her to the jails, and the sounds of suffering made themselves known. As the dream continued, it reached its climax as the jailer - who wore Sylas' face - opened the door to the compound's deepest cell. And after that... the forgotten scene. Something was in Sylas' cell, but based on him being the guide to it, it clearly was not the revolutionary himself.

But why can't I remember it? I know I entered that room. The last thing I saw was the door shutting on me. Am I hiding it from myself? If so, why?

They soon arrived before Lux's chambers. Moonlight glowed from within the room, visible through a door left ajar. Lux shook away her thoughts and turned to thank Jarvan.

"Don't mention it," the prince replied with a troubled look and did not make to leave, "... I know things are... tense right now. And I know this betrothal wasn't opportune."

Lux glanced curiosity, then asked, amused, "Wait, is that why you've been using my full name?"

Jarvan flinched, his face the picture of embarrassment. The prince tried to reply, but seemed to find his words wanting.

Lux covered her mouth to giggle, "You've known me since we were kids; you don't need to be so formal."

"Oh..." Jarvan slowly relaxed, "Wait, so you don't mind the arrangement?"

It was Lux's turn to feel shame, with the secret mage glancing away, "... I'll admit, I was against it at first. Not against you, though, it was just... the whole arranging part, you know?"

A frown crept up Lux's face as she recalled where she'd gone immediately after hearing the news. She fought the urge to vomit when she remembered what she considered about Sylas that day. However naive she was now, surely it was better than who she was then.

Her brief reflection was not noted by the prince. Jarvan simply nodded, his mind wandering to his own memories, "Yeah, I get that. So... how about now?"

"Well, it could hardly be worse," Lux smiled awkwardly, "Our arrangement is a bit weird... I won't pretend to be some love-struck bride to be..."

"I wouldn't want you to."

"...But with everything going on, I'm willing to try. If it's what's needed, I'll do it," Lux's smile widened at a sincere thought, "And besides, betrothal or no, we are still friends."

"Friends," Jarvan returned with a smile of his own, "Right, friends. And friends care for each other."

"Yes," Lux nodded, "And not just me. Garen, Uncle Xin Zhao, even Aunt Tianna. We all care for you, not just because you're the prince. We'll help you."

"...Thank you. That means a lot," Jarvan gave a small bow of gratitude, "Have a good night."

"Morning."

Jarvan shook his head with a chuckle and went on his way. His lantern faded into the dark as he left. Alone again but content, Lux sighed. She returned to her bed and let sleep find her again.

Moonlight was not all that watched her.

* * *

As the midday sun baked the petricite walls of the Great City, the Noxian Noble party journeyed to the city plaza through the shade. Only, two of them looked the part, Yin reflected. Where she and Lady Elia wore the dresses befitting of noblewomen, Xander was garbed in a hunter's attire. It was still Demacian, of course, just in case any eyes were watching; blue and pants with leather armour in places. She still felt the choice dangerous, though that may have just been her Noxian background talking.

"You seemed pleased," Lady Elia spoke carefully and with refinement, "I hope you've been subtle."

"As much as I can be with a magic rune on my face at all times," Xander blurted out without a care. Whilst Yin wanted to assume Xander was confident in their safety, it was as still Xander; she couldn't tell. "And, Mageseekers apparently don't give a shit about where their shit goes. So it works out."

"Please, dear, if you could forgo such crass language before lunch, it would be appreciated."

Xander snorted, "Heh, of course."

The sun caught them again as the Noxian party entered a plaza area. As her bosses traded insults, Yin surveyed the plaza before finding the fanciful building with brown-red roof tiles; their lunch destination. Standing outside, dejected and probably kicked out by the restaurant's elite caterers were Gerris and Erret. To their credit, they looked like they were straddling the line between middle class and aristocracy, with good clothes and a few trinkets decoration. Alas, it was a relatively luxurious establishment that their host picked out.

"Took your time," Gerris crossed his arms, "Could yet get us in, now? The heats' killing me."

"We-" Xander cleared his throat, "You've done service in Shurima. This heat is killing you?"

"Stuffy clothing," was the mumbled reply that came.

Erret shared none of Gerris' pessimism, "Well, you made it, so all's well that ends well."

"Indeed," Xander smiled, "I hope you're hungry. This place is great; at least, I remember it being good... Now, I'll go check with Lady Elia."

The Left Hand went on his way before they could speak, leaving the pure Noxians together.

"Hmm, Xan- er, Imuren seems chipper," Gerris noted, "I don't suppose he did anything, did he?"

"Not that I know of, but he probably did sneak back home, so that's probably a factor," Yin mused, "And of course, nothing bad's happened. If he did something, he was subtle about it."

Erret made a sound of agreement before stepping to Yin with a smile, "... that's your Demacian Noble get-up? You look great in it."

Fighting the urge to sputter, Yin puffed up, "Well of course. I may not wear dresses often, but I know my way around them."

Truth be told, Yin wasn't sure what Erret was getting at. By aristocratic standards, her dress was almost offensively plain. A single tone of brown, save for the corset which was slightly darker and vibrant, it was hardly a work of art. It was comfy, of course; that was her primary concern. And, hiding behind her dress, strapped around her thigh was a knife and a couple of vials of blood. Utilitarian, not aesthetic. But she supposed she was his lover, so it wasn't out of the ordinary to get a compliment...

"I'd say get a room, but I think we can only afford one," Gerris mused.

"Could you give us a minute?" Yin sighed and leaned into Erret, "I'm the one who's been hiding in plain sight all day. I think I deserve a break."

"Yeah," Erret straightened up defensively and said nothing more, "...Yeah. What she said."

Gerris snorted then pointed over their shoulders, "Sure. It seems our host got you your room."

Yin could only roll her eyes as they followed Gerris in.

If the fancy architecture and the exorbitant entry fee wasn't enough of a clue, the interior of the Seasonwings fully cemented the restaurant's identity of an upper-class hideout. Every plank of the floor was shined, every table covered in a quality cloth. Scented candles by small tables allowed for the most romantic of dates whilst chandeliers over larger ones allowed for stellar family gatherings. Such extravagant decor reminded Yin of some of the Black Rose's hideouts, and given how much influence they had it wouldn't surprise her if she learned that House Sharpstem has funded the restaurant as well. But again, that was likely her Noxian background talking.

In general, the sights mattered little to the Noxian party. Their host had booked a private room in a reclusive corner, with only a single door as an entrance and exit. Their food was already there, freshly cooked. There was little to delay them; they sat, ate, and - once he doors were shut - began their meeting.

"So tonight you'll be attacking the palace," Lady Elia started, "I'm grateful for the early notice, but why did you include me in this meeting?"

"Point one: as our host, you're technically part of the team. Point two: you're the local. I may have been born here, but with recent events I imagine culture and protocol's changed," Xander explained each point between mouthfuls, "Point three: I imagine you'll be reporting this to LeBlanc, so full context probably would help clarify anything."

As Lady Elia nodded and motioned to continue before continuing her meal, "So, you have a plan?"

"Long term or short term? Cos I got both."

Gerris sighed at the digression, "Xander, both."

"Alright then. I'll start with long term, since this is new stuff. For one, I'm finally willing to say we have an actual plan. That is: a campaign to discredit the current Demacian regime, prop up Noxian sympathies in the mage rebellion, and eventually force the monarchy to a table. Whether it's for an alliance or a concession is still up to events, but both are on the table."

"And how will we achieve this?" Elia asked, "I don't suppose it will require my funding?"

"Ideally as little as possible; that could be traced, and you're technically still aristocracy, so your support may not help the rebellion's image," Xander further detailed, "Ultimately the plan is to show the benefits of magic to Demacia, and we've got quite the opportunity to do so. Between the rebels' raids on nobles and the attack tonight, the regime's focus will be on security; the military. That leaves us to show up every other government function."

"Such as?"

"Agriculture, for one. Many mages in the north were able to make a living increasing crop yield before they were taken away. With their help in concentrated groups, we could essentially bribe towns one by one to our side. Of course, we won't present it that way, but..." The Left Hand smirked, "And that's just agriculture. Fire mages for forges, water mages purifying polluted sources, healers for, well, healing. There's a lot of utility that mages can offer the general population. And whilst the government is putting people in cages with their unwieldy numbers, we'll have gained a loyal force - potentially trained for guerrilla warfare - to challenge them."

"And how will we convince them to join Noxus?" Gerris asked.

Xander drank to clear his throat then spoke, "Join Noxus? That is all but impossible; it's honestly alliance or bust, given current sentiments. But, we can set up for the future. Noxus' anti-aristocrat meritocracy counters nearly every problem in modern day Demacia. We get the leaders to realize this, they get the people, and in a few generations Demacia and Noxus might as well be the same country."

"That... is horribly unrealistic," Elia commented after sipping a drink, "But, I imagine this plan is still detail-less to allow for fluidity?"

"Of course."

Elia sighed, "We can discuss edits for your plan when we return to Sharpstem. Now, lets move to the short term. So you start tonight after dinner?"

"Actually, I started it yesterday," The Left Hand smiled mischievously, "I got Nocturne - my demon - to haunt Luxanna Crownguard last night with dreams designed to make her question her allegiances. He got both her and Jarvan, actually. Noc says they were able to talk their immediate fears out, but the seeds of doubt have been planted."

"And you'll reap it today?" Erret asked, placing his cutlery down as he finished his meal.

"No, not even Nocturne could cause such a change within a few nights. Not without outing himself, and that surely wouldn't work," Xander shook his head, "No, tonight I'll only be continuing my work; with her and the prince. They'll be threatened, of course, but when their minds calm down those doubts will rise up again."

Erret nodded, "I see... and I assume the rest of the plan will go as we discussed en route?"

"Yep," Xander glanced at Elia's expecting stare, then summarized, "By 'continuing my work' I mean running up to the palace and harassing the Prince and his betrothed; maybe some hostage scenarios, we'll see. That'll distract the guards long enough for the rest of my team to infiltrate Mageseeker HQ to find intel. Once I've had my fun and they've got the intel - or we just reach our limits - we escape through the sewers, leave out of a hatch in the nearby forest, then walk back to home before dawn. Any questions?"

"Two," Elia replied, "Firstly, what will I be doing?"

"Sleeping, or pretending to sleep. If you can give us an alibi with illusions or something, go ahead. Not much you can really do. As long as we don't get caught, you have nothing to worry about."

"Right... second, what information do you seek from the Mageseekers?" A predatory glint shined in Elia's eye, "Much knowledge is held by them; the Mistress would appreciate if they were... transferred, shall we say."

"We'll grab anything with a lock or a fancy cover," Gerris assured after wiping his mouth with a napkin, "But, of course, the one Xan wants from us is a letter that may or may not exist."

The Lady of Sharpstem raised an eyebrow, "What would this hypothetical letter contain?"

Xander didn't hesitate to give his answer, "Proof that the Mageseekers killed the old king."

Seeing the disbelief on their host's face, Yin stepped in to explain, "Xander found contacts with the rebellion who state that they didn't kill the king; they found him dead before they could reach him. Xander believes the Mageseekers did it because they have the most to benefit from it."

After a pause to consume and consider, Elia swallowed and spoke, "The late King was known for his mercy... in fact, all of the scandals of his reign came from forgiveness. Some imagined the Prince might've been exiled after his failed campaign-"

"Extremely unlikely, Jarvan was his dad's pride and glory."

"True. But that isn't all; I imagine it's before your time, but Sylas' initial arrest caused some backlash; most expected him to be immediately executed for his murders. And of course, there was the debacle with appointing a Noxian to be his bodyguard and granting said Noxian's friends amnesty..."

Gerris broke in with a laugh, "Wait, he gave Noxians amnesty? As in, a lot of them? I heard he spared Viscero, but..."

"Guess he's as good at sob stories as he is with a spear," Yin shrugged, "Though, considering how cutthroat the Darkwill days were, he had to know some deception to get around."

Gerris snorted incredulously, "You were alive during the Darkwill days?"

"Yes I was," Yin's reply was met with a curious chuckle. She quickly deflated as honesty worked its way up her throat, "Ok, I was a kid then, but my parents told me enough about it."

"Which one?" Gerris mirthfully asked.

"Both of them? I mean, times were bad enough my mom actually slept with my dad, so..."

Before Gerris' lungs could burst from laughter, Xander cleared his throat and addressed Elia once more, "So the King was merciful to a fault; enough for certain factions to dislike him. But...?"

"But, unlike in Noxus, the aristocracy is awfully loyal. Long live the king and all that," Elia replied, "I don't think the Mageseekers would be ambitious enough to commit such a grand treason as regicide."

"Even if they could get away with it?"

"Yes, even then," Elia sighed, "But, I won't pretend I'm not suspicious either. If such a letter existed and your team did find it... it would be invaluable."

"Which is why it's priority number one," Xander crossed his arms, "Anything else you'd like to add? Maybe a few recommendations for what to, ahem, transfer from Mageseeker HQ?"

"I won't pretend I'm an experienced tactician, so I'll leave the decisions to you," Elia answered, "As for artifacts, the works of Durand have intrigued me."

"Great minds think alike; it was already on my list," Xander smiled, "Judging by that glean in your eye you have quite the list. Written?"

"Yes, actually," Elia paused to sip from her drink, "Would you like a copy?"

"How about three?" Xander shared a quick glance with his teammates.

After a pause, Lady Elia sighed at her workload's increase.

"Quite the list indeed," Xander assumed, "Maybe cut it down to a top ten?"

"Well, I suppose I have the time..."

* * *

"Come on, Garen, you can tell us."

The us in question were herself and Jarvan, and the thing the royal was trying to fish out of his friend was... well, if Lux could describe it in a word, it'd be unbelievable. Even as a child, Garen Crownguard had always been the stoic, dependable defender. Always calm and collected, yet ready to show compassion at a moment's notice. He had his moments to break character, of course; he and Jarvan had regaled her with tales from their service. But...

"My love life is none of your business!" Garen blurted out, cheeks red.

And Jarvan doubled down, "So you admit it: you do have a secret lover!"

...the concept of romance? Between a mysterious lover and Garen Crownguard?

Lux didn't know what was more ridiculous; that Garen had a scandal in the making, or that she'd never once had to consider being an Aunt.

"Err," Garen looked away and mumbled, "Aunt Tianna wouldn't approve..."

After mentally logging that she wouldn't be like Aunt Tianna to any of Garen's kids, Lux replied, "If you really love this person, I'll support you."

"So would I," Jarvan added, "I'm certain a royal blessing would clear up any problems?"

Garen seemed to juggle his words before insisting, "It would be extremely inappropriate."

Jarvan squinted in thought momentarily, "Is it Fiora?"

Garen paled, but not out of guilt, "Oh, gods no, don't even suggest that. I'm still sore from our last spar."

At the prince's raised eyebrow, Garen's blush returned, "No, not like that!"

Lux offered her support, "Well, Garen, I'm glad to hear you're not courting her."

"...do you have something against Fiora?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine with her," Lux assured, the lie slipping through her teeth, "I'm just being supportive. If you're not courting her, then it's your choice."

To Lux's credit was a half truth. Fiora seemed like a good person, but for Lux the Laurent too... noble. Every complaint Sylas has for the aristocracy, Lux felt the Laurent fit the bill. But, it wasn't as though she knew her well; she'd reserve her judgement.

"It probably is a good choice anyway," Jarvan sobered up, "Fiora's the last of the main line of Laurent, whilst you'll inherit the Crownguard name. Organizing the two house's consolidation would be quite the change, and with current circumstances I don't think it's a good idea to pursue that."

"Aren't there Laurent cadet lines that could inherit?" Garen asked.

Jarvan chuckled, "I don't want to get on Fiora's bad side any more than you do."

Garen nodded with a mirthful smile, "Fair enough."

Garen relaxed into his seat. Idly, Lux reflected that it was an absurd look. Garen always was a massive man, even without his armor; the Might of Demacia looked a tad bit too big for his seat. It was a silly thought, but their conversation for dinner had been nothing but silly. Lux hoped none of the servants that had served them would tattle; surely their public images as resolute Demacian leaders would be erased in a snap.

As if willed by her pessimistic thought, Garen matched her gaze momentarily then glanced at Jarvan, "Since we're on the topic of love lives... I don't suppose you've been getting along?"

Jarvan blinked, then chuckled, "You say that like we're not childhood friends. You suggested this betrothal on that pairing, didn't you?"

The Might of Demacia's gaze grew cold, "You know what I mean."

Lux sighed, catching the act, "Garen, you know the answer to your question. Jarvan and I have been getting along fine; no need to play the overprotective brother role."

Immediately Garen gave a short laugh, "But I've been waiting so long to do it! Never mind that I can even play it seriously because, yes, I did know the answer to my question."

"I'd say I'm sorry to disappoint, but disappointing is the part thing I'm aiming to be," Jarvan's smirk as he jested faded to something more serious, "I'll repeat what Lux told me last night: betrothal or no, we are friends. I'd never wish to break someone's heart, least of all a friend's. You have nothing to fear."

Garen nodded with a satisfied smile, "Thank you. I appreciate that."

Lux didn't need to add anything; her brother had taken the words right out of her mouth.

The royal dining hall settled into silence at that. A few servants walked about by the corridor outside, but the royal party's dinner had long since passed. But, whilst the meal was finished, the conversations had continued. For a couple of hours, Lux estimated with a smile. They'd all had a long few months, often in different parts of the country, attending to different matters. As far as Lux was concerned, they needed a break.

And yet, the call of duty came. Garen glanced over Jarvan's shoulder to a clock on the wall.

"Well, it's been good speaking with you, but I've got to go," the Dauntless sword-captain stood up, "I've a meeting with Aunt Tianna."

"Don't let us keep you," Jarvan waved him off, "We can talk again tomorrow."

"Right, good night!"

"Good night to you too."

As the elder Crownguard left, Lux sighed.

"This was nice; like old times," she said, disappointed, "I imagine you have a meeting now?"

Jarvan's mood seemed soured by her pessimism, but he smiled, "Not for a while, actually. Even then, I'm sure Xin would understand if I was late."

"I wouldn't want to intrude-"

"Lux, it's fine," Jarvan insisted, "I've got plenty of time, and I so happened to enjoy our conversations as well. So why not continue?"

After a moment's consideration, Lux replied with a smile, "Well, for one, what should we talk about?"

As she predicted, Jarvan's reply was a long, "Uhhhh..."

Ever the exemplar, however, the prince cut off her teasing laugh with an answer, "My dream!"

"Sorry, your what?"

"We could talk about my dream; the one I couldn't remember. Remember last night?"

"You mean this morning?"

Jarvan could only give her a pointed stare, "Lux."

The secret light mage chuckled, only to fade into a frown, "Sorry, I've been kind of busy; couldn't do much reading. I asked some soldiers in my escort about dreams and they said writing it down helps. So, if you can still remember, maybe that could work?"

"It does help somewhat; Xin Zhao gave me the same advice; said by writing it down I might notice a pattern," Jarvan raised an eyebrow, "You have an escort?"

"Yes. Groups of four, picked by Garen," Lux shrugged, "I don't get it. It's not as if we're in the most secure fortress in the kingdom..."

"I actually suggested it to him," Jarvan countered, "And as secure as the palace is, we still got overrun by Sylas' rebels."

"Oh. Sorry about that - making you remember."

"Don't worry, it's not your fault."

Silence filled the hall once more, only rather than satisfaction, anxiousness was its subordinate. Lux gazed away from Jarvan's frown as she tried to find the right words to restart to conversation. Rather than her words, however, movement on Jarvan's part brought life to the scene. He straightened up and glanced at Lux.

"What were you saying earlier, about the dinner?" the royal asked.

"... that it was nice?" Lux blinked as she forced recollection, "Like old-"

"Like old times," Jarvan said, "I don't know why, but that phrase sticks out to me."

Jarvan abruptly stopped speaking again, then leaned back into his chair. His brow remained furrowed in confusion, yet his frown deepened.

"Jarvan?"

"...Thanks for the help. I think I've got a lead."

"Are you... alright?"

Jarvan met her gaze with a smile that wasn't quite there, "Yes. No, maybe. I... guess I'll get back to you on it when I figure it out."

After a pause, Jarvan offered, "Would you like me to walk you to your room? I can still make my meeting in time."

Lux shook her head and stood up, "I'll be fine, thank you. Garen's escort should suffice."

"Right," he stood as well, "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I wouldn't mind," Lux smiled, "Good night."

"Good night."

As she passed through the hall's door, Lux sighed, discontent. Nostalgia slipped from her soul like rain, leaving a bitter cold. This was only heightened by Jarvan's words. Something jolted him into awareness, gave him a clue that she didn't have; and whatever answer Jarvan had gained, it hadn't done anything for his mood. Worse, her mood was noticed by a handful of soldiers - likely the new shift Garen's escort. She shook her head and forced a smile.

"You're tonight's shift?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am," their leader, a lanky man with steel eyes, gave a respectful bow, "Sergeant Praytor. These are my men, Privates Jaime, Genna and Zekiel. Captain Garen said you would lead us to your chambers?"

Lux nodded before glancing at the windows, "I can. Do you have lanterns?"

"We have two lanterns and the oil for our shift," Praytor replied, "Lead the way, Crownguard."

Despite herself, Lux couldn't help but let out a small giggle, "You say that like I'm leading you into battle."

"If I may, Miss Crownguard, I hope that isn't the case."

Lux sobered up with a sigh, "Of course. Follow me."

And so they did, through halls illuminated by pink hues and the growing darkness of twilight. As they entered the royal apartments, Lux noticed one of the privates make a sound of awe. It wasn't everyday a commoner stepped foot into royal luxuries, she suspected. A needle of guilt pricked Lux's heart at that.

So, she tried to shake off the feeling with a question, "Sergeant Praytor?"

"Yes?"

"How will the shifts work? Do you have a signal with the next shift, or is there a schedule?"

"The latter. Captain Garen briefed us personally before your arrival yesterday," Sergeant Praytor explained, "The first night-shift brings two lanterns and the oil for their shift. The next only bring the oil, and come at their designated time."

Unseen by the soldier, Lux frowned. _Of course Garen planned this before I agreed._

Sergeant Praytor continued, "If you're worried we'll wake you up, you needn't worry. We can do our job without giving you sleep deprivation."

Despite her mood, Lux chuckled, "That's greatly appreciated," she yawned, "I've been having some trouble sleeping; I'd hate for the streak to continue."

Sergeant Praytor didn't react at that, prompting a sigh of disappointment from Lux. Perhaps it sounded like a threat? She could see Fiora making that statement as a prompt for some lackey to do better. _Crap, how did I not think of-_

A hand grabbed Lux's shoulder. Before she could speak up, the Sergeant stepped forward.

"Wait there, and be quiet, " he ordered. Lux complied for a moment, then Praytor asked, "Did you hear that?"

She hadn't, and somehow that made it worse. Something like fear grabbed at her heart.

"The giggle?" one of the soldiers asked, voice trembling.

"Giggle?" the other soldier's voice was full of confusion, "I heard a yell."

"And I heard a sword being pulled out of a scabbard," Praytor said, "Shit, I was being honest when I said I didn't want a fight!"

"Sergeant Praytor," Lux cut in, "What's happening?"

"I don't know, but someone's in here with us," the sergeant stated, "How close are we to your quarters?"

"Down the hall and a left turn."

"Alright. Miss Crownguard, get behind me. Genna, Zekiel, behind her. Jaime, behind them. Diamond. Light the lanterns then get your sword's out."

The soldiers complied, striking a flame before unsheathing their blades. After a quick breath to control her nerves - and her magic - Lux did as she was asked as well.

"Stay close," Praytor ordered, "Move on three."

He raised a hand and three fingers. They dropped like bodies to arrows, and Sergeant Praytor bursted forward. Beckoned by the soldiers behind her, Lux followed. As night darkened the apartment and the lantern's lights guided their way, Lux channeled some of her magic to her eyes. She'd experimented with her light magic as a form of night vision after Fossbarrow, and was able to make it out of a midnight forest without a torch. Yet, in her childhood home she could see nothing out of the ordinary.

But, just before they entered her apartment, she _heard_ something instead.

"Stop," she called, and they did. Lux explained, "I just heard something."

"So did I. I heard another sword scabbard. You?"

"I... I don't know, but I heard something."

Praytor nodded, "Genna, Zekiel, you guys too?"

With lantern light lining their features, Lux saw them nod.

She heard something again, clearer this time. Or rather, some _things_. She heard all three of the things the soldiers had listed previously. All at once.

Through her quarter's door.

Praytor's eyes followed hers to the same conclusion. With a resigned sigh, he raised his hand again. Upon forming a fist, the Sergeant punched the door open and rolled into the room, sword at the ready. His men followed on his strike, blades covering his openings. As moonlight illuminated their vision through an open window, Praytor rose.

"Nothing?" he asked aloud.

"But we heard something," Lux mumbled, "We're not safe here."

"Maybe, but we're still in the capital," Praytor noted, "Jaime. You're the quickest of us. Can you get some help?"

"If I don't, I think we're dead anyways," Jaime replied, "I'll be back soon."

"Be back yesterday, go!"

As Jaime sheathed his sword and sprinted down the hall, Lux backed away from it and into her room. Genna and Zekiel flanked her as they entered, bringing their lanterns with them. The soldiers quickly formed a wall between the Crownguard an the door.

"You know what? If this is what fighting mages is like, get me to the front lines right now," the scared soldier - Zekiel, Lux guessed, muttered in terror, "I'd rather deal with a Noxian battalion than this."

"No kidding," Genna concurred, "At least they're up front."

"Cut the chatter," Praytor interrupted, "Eyes peeled, ears open; nothing gets through that door."

As if summoned by the order, an echoed, rasping voice asked, "How about the window?"

From behind them, a flurry of blades slammed the door shut.


	10. Chapter 10

"My, my... how long has it been since..."

"Was that a question?"

With a chuckle, Xander briefly left his nostalgic trance and answered, "Rhetorical."

Surprisingly, it had been easy to get into the palace. Even with his disguise as a castle janitor, as well as his childhood living there, Xander had expected some resistance. Alas, Nocturne using nightmares to sleep-deprive many of the guards made many of them easily distracted. The rest... well, for him? A mage focused on mental states trained to be a saboteur and assassin? Xander didn't want to say his old guardians were sloppy, but their performance was disappointing.

Alas, he made it to the royal chambers without harm. The long halls were empty, their residents still busy at work. As night slowly fell, Xander prowled through familiar corridors and into an old room.

The shine of porcelain flooring immediately clued him in on the room's status as a washroom. The light within was minimal, that most probably wouldn't notice. With his eyes enhanced by Nocturne's possession, he could see his reflection clearly. He smirked at his uncanny wardrobe.

_Oh, I wonder how you'll interpret this..._

"Are you ready?" Nocturne's voice called from the back of his head.

"Of course," The Left Hand responded, "Why'd you ask? You remember your script, right?"

"I know enough to... what's your word... improvise," Nocturne assured, "I ask because we arrived at the last moment; Luxanna Crownguard is here."

Xander blinked behind his mask, "How'd you know?"

"Her soul shines bright, even here..."

The sound of a door creaked, followed by metal shuffling.

_...And, her footsteps echo_ , Nocturne mentally concluded.

_Indeed they do_ , Xander thought, _But that isn't all... does she have an escort?_

_She does. Four more souls_ , Nocturne warned, _Will we still go for the assault?_

_Yes. I anticipated this_ , Xander stood from his spot and moved to the room's door, _Put an auditory illusion on the guards. Creepy as possible. Creative as you like._

The feeling of a weight being lifted off his body told Xander the demon was doing as complied. Shadows seeped into petricite walls, and Xander heard mumbles beyond the washroom's door. As Nocturne imposed himself back into his body, the metal caps of running boots echoed through the door.

_Illusion, now._

Xander stepped through the door as silently as possible and peered his prey running through another door frame. Memories reminded him that they'd holed up in Lux's room; they likely wouldn't leave. The Left Hand snuck to a corner by a window and stayed silent.

_What is your plan now?_ Nocturne asked, _They are no match for you, but any conflict would garner attention._

_Attention is what we want, but probably not that much, not yet,_ Xander admitted.

_So what then?_

As if summoned, one of the soldiers bolted out of the room, down the hall. He looked around, but didn't seem to be trying to find them. That only left only two possibilities; a bait, or a call for help.

_That soldier's definitely going to call the alarms_ , Xander decided, _Still leaves the question of getting in that room..._

_You already have an answer to that, don't you?_

_You know me too well,_ Xander glanced to the windows, _Parkour works, but shadow traveling is so much more convenient, no?_

Nocturne projected a vision of his deadpan stare into Xander's mind, _Summoner, you are a shameless leech._

The Left Hand smirked as he stepped to the window, _You know it. Now, let's begin._

* * *

The thing struck like a thunderbolt before she could react.

Wing-like blades shot past her and the guards, landing to flank the door. Moved by magic, the blades flipped and snapped the doors shot. The distraction didn't last long, but by the time Lux and her guards had turned around, it was too late.

As she watched, Lux's legs failed her out of a foreign fear. Smoky black spells choked her escorts' screams as the invader kept through the window over her. Landing before her bed, the invader's first right hook sent Praytor to the ground, unconscious. A left jab followed by a lightning-fast combination rang the dazed Zekiel's armor like a bell, and he was soon out of the fight as well. Genna recovered from the silencing spell and raised her blade to counterattack, but her wrist was caught, stopping the blow. The invader countered in turn with an elbow and an uppercut. Genna remained standing, but couldn't react to the roundhouse that sent her into the door.

With the escorts dealt with, the invader finally focused on Lux. White eyes pierced her soul with apathetic analysis. Through the invader's smoke-like magic aura, Lux saw a hand flick, as if summoning something. The blades from the door answered their master's call and flew to the invader's forearms. Armed, the invader stepped forward with slow deliberation. Lux crawled away, reaching the wall at the edge of her bed frame. The light mage opened her mouth to scream for help, but quick bolt of black mist quickly silenced her. Yet, as she sputtered at the spell and shut her eyes; as the invader closed in, blade ready; the fear in Lux's heart charged itself into action. Unbidden, and without care for the soldiers in her room, Lux yelled and released her magic.

The effects were instantaneous. The room lit up, every surface and crack illuminated by her magic. The fear Lux felt faded like mist, and the choking spell's effect wore off immediately. The burdens of the day disappeared from her mind, and for a moment, Lux forgot her current predicament. The high of releasing her magic for the first time in weeks cleared her mind of negativity; something the invader didn't seem to like.

The invader blocked its face from the light, but that didn't stop its shadowy aura from somewhat dissipating. Lux caught its glare as it recovered and watched its movements. As it glanced to the doorway, Lux reached to her closet. Her mage staff flew out, and at its tip she channeled a ball of magic.

"You're not getting away!"

The invader seemed determined to prove her wrong, ducking the spell and charging through the door with shoulder first. As it ran through the hallway, it turned to send another shadow bolt at her. But, the shadow faded before the light Lux's follow-up spell. The shadows on the invader were extinguished as the binding spell stuck it in a cage of bright magic beams.

A haunting howl came from the entity, and the blades clattered uselessly to the floor. With the mist clear, Lux could see the human frame of her attacker. He looked the part of a Mageseeker, with blue robes and a gray mask. The glow in his eyes - faded due to Lux's magic, but still present - implied some magical ability. Perhaps, like Sylas had been, he was a mage working for the Mageseeker order. But, atop the robes were dark steel armor pieces with red markings - runes. Garen's descriptions of Noxian armor came to mind, but having not seen any examples, she wasn't quite sure. The blades on the floor and the forearm cuffs seemed of different make as well, more organic and claw-like than the geometric shapes she'd seen of retrieved Noxian arms.

With her mind free of fear, confusion set in. The question of, "What are you?" left her mouth in a whisper.

The invader growled through the light binding, but its answer wasn't what broke the silence. A pained groan filled the hall. The invader glanced behind Lux, leading the mage to look at her doorway. Despite her bleeding lip and dented helmet in hand, a bruised Genna's main concern was her charge.

"You're... a mage?"

Before Lux could respond, a chill went through her. A silhouette appeared in front of her and kicked Genna onto her back before taking shape once more. The invader pointed one of his massive arm blades at Genna's throat.

"She is, and you'll forget about that..." the invader spoke in a distorted, two tone voice that seemed familiar to Lux, "...you, will won't yo- oh."

The invader retracted his blade, allowing Lux to see that Genna had been knocked out again. The invader chuckled, raising his arm blades.

"Good," the two-tone voice rasped, "We're all alone."

A pulse of darkness was released from the invader. As the shadows reached Lux, the light mage felt a change in atmosphere. It was as if lead had filled her veins, and chain bindings were tightening around her heart. In a black blur, the invader struck. Lux casted another binding spell, catching her attacker. The invader - or rather, its controller - predicted the attack. The body was blocked from the worst of the spell's effects, the spell fading from the blades' edges. Yet, more terrifying was the counterattack: from the invader's body came a ghost. A black claw of a form between muscle and smoke swatted away Lux's staff, whilst the other grabbed Lux's face and shoved her into a wall.

As the edges of Lux's vision darkened, the demon's white eyes glared at her, "You remember, don't you?"

The second thought Lux had following the question was that it had to have been a spell; the first thought was that she immediately remembered. She'd seen an entity like the one before her once. Memories of monsters, of men seeing things where others did not, of shady mists, of a young mage named Luca...

Through her squeezed mouth, Lux forced out a name, "… Fossbarrow…"

The demon loosened its grip on her face, allowing her to elaborate.

"…The demon from Fossbarrow… the one my great grandfather killed…"

"We persisted past your ancestor's strike," the demon corrected, dropping her to the ground, "He was right to fear that which he could not kill."

Lux sputtered, but rose to her knees and recollected herself, "He still defeated you."

"He did force us to disengage," the demon admitted, then chuckled, "That grants him - and you - our respect…"

It respects me... respects me because... Lux's eyes widened and she backed away into the wall, It takes me seriously because I'm a threat!

"You're here to kill me, then?"

Expecting a strike, Lux quickly stood up, leaning against the wall. Perhaps she'd have a better chance of dodging on her feet. It was slim, and the demon seemed to be magically stronger than even her. But, she was a Crownguard. She wasn't her brother, but she wouldn't back down; not to a monster threatening Demacian lives.

As the demon's dagger like eyes narrowed, she continued, "You're here to kill me for what my great grandfather did to you, and what I did to you."

The demon was silent. Smoke fell off its body in wisps as it glared. Lux knew it was pressing its presence on her; an anxious itch was sneaking up her spine.

"Well?!" She channeled some of her magic to ward off the demon's, but the intention clearly had been met. She was frustrated, afraid, and confused, so she asked again, "That's what you're here for, isn't it?"

For a moment, it looked as though the demon would continue its silent stare down. But after a second, it did the one worse thing it could do.

It laughed.

Free from its host, the demon's chortles sounded akin to a dying man's gasps. It put a hand over its face to cover a non-existent mouth, all the while expelling more shadows. Lux could only watch, waiting for the demon's next action.

"I could kill you..." it admitted, "The screams from this castles' hosts... their emotions... it would be sweet... but no. I am not here to kill you."

"Then why are you here?"

"Among other things..." The demon chuckled again, "I am here to thank you."

* * *

According to their intel, the eastern wing of the Mageseeker Headquarters was its least populated sector. In peace times, a handful of the order's scholarly types would spend their time in the wing, analyzing the artifacts within. Yet, most Mageseekers felt that items of magic were best kept locked away, rather than studied. In addition, actually seeking out mages proved more productive to the cause; a sentiment only heightened with recent events. A bi-hourly skeleton crew patrol was the only deployment to the wing, and they were off their shift. In short, an easy target to say the least. They all knew this, and they were all in agreement.

At least, for the most part.

"I still think we should've waited for the signal," Erret muttered.

"And wait thirty more minutes in Mageseeker shit for a signal that we may or may not be able to detect from the sewers?" Yin scoffed, "We'll be fine. Even Gerris agreed."

The ex-reckoner nodded, "Even if you managed to get a disguise, you'd probably have been caught. Between the sewage smell and you simply being a soldier in a weird place, someone would've suspected you. At least here we can deal with any of them together."

"True, but it's not us I'm worried about," Erret explained, "Xander's probably using his signal as a time frame. If we finish up early-"

"He'll probably be fine. He has a demon at his beck and call," Yin assured, "And with the task he's given, we'll probably be here for a while."

"...You're probably right," Erret let out a half-hearted chuckle, "And it's not like we're basically in the same position as him. Surrounded by an army and all?"

"Mhm. Palace probably has more men though."

As they rose up a circular staircase to the first then second floor, moonlight reminded them of another reason their infiltration route came from the east wing. Through intricately patterned windows, a view of the palace could be seen. Of course, as the center of the city, one could observe the palace so long as there wasn't anything in the way. But, the east wing of the palace was home to its residential sector. Erret had imagined he'd had to have sneaked ahead, caught a visual cue, then picked up Yin and Gerris from the sewage entryway. It wasn't a long run, and as far as he was concerned being along but with no enemies was far safer than in a group surrounded by a few; never mind the compound at full capacit-

As he reached the floor of the compound, a blinding light from his sight snapped him from his brooding. He turned to face it, but by the time he had the light show had ended. However, from the sounds of her groans, it seemed that Yin had seen what had happened.

"That..." she shook her head and blinked, "It came from the palace. One room lit up."

"That was... Lux, then, right?" Gerris asked, "She's a light mage, wasn't that it?"

"Yep, so she got to Xander. Or probably he got to her," Erret sighed, "Trust Xander to pick a signal that probably would've blinded me if we stuck to the plan."

More light came from the palace, which came with the sound of a howl. The light maintained for a moment, but was quickly blot out. Another flash came, but it was softer, more restrained.

"Yeah. Fucking annoying," Yin's voice was strained as she recovered, but she quickly sobered up, "Wait... you hear that?"

Without their words polluting the air, Erret could. Given what he knew, the sounds he heard were abnormal. He'd heard that the Demacians didn't have war drums; the disciplined steps of Demacian soldiers and calvary produced the beats by which they fought. Yet, faintly below them and faintly above them, Erret could only make out a rush of footsteps; a panicked stampede.

"Well, that's a distraction if I've ever seen one," Gerris muttered, "But, if they find us on the way there-"

"Yep, we're toast," Erret finished, glancing down the hall, "Yin, how far away are we from the main vaults?"

The sound of footsteps echoed from the other side of the hall.

"...If I'm not wrong, too far," Yin shot up, "Through that door!"

The door in question was made of petricite wood with a silver handle; not unexpected given their location, but unusual compared to the oak doors they'd seen on the way. Nonetheless, the footsteps grew closer; they'd have to investigate from within. Erret opened the door, saw and heard nobody within, and beckoned for the others to get in. He followed right after and softly shut the door.

"Anyone in here?" he asked.

"I can't feel any blood, so no," Yin replied.

"How much blood is outside?"

"Nothing yet... no, wait, there's... a lot."

Through the petricite door, Erret heard metal thuds as at least five pairs of boots hit the floor. The saboteur could make out confused mumbles, but none of the words within.

"They don't know we're here," Erret reported.

Behind him, Yin sighed, "Well, that's good."

"Mhm," Gerris idly replied, "Sadly, we're still working with a time limit."

Erret and Yin turned around to ask why, only to see Gerris standing by a desk with a lit candle. The answer quickly came to them; they were in an office that was currently on use.

"We trade," Gerris ordered, "If anyone comes through I'll knock'em out. You two start looking through this crap. Maybe there's something we can find here."

"Right, on it," they both responded.

The room was rather lavish in design, with the lit candle being part of a carved set of three. It was clearly a scented set as well, given how the smell of sewage had lightened since they entered. The right wall from the door was covered by a bookshelf that was only a quarter full. Another quarter's worth of tomes was strewn in random places around the room, set in a way to give the appearance of organized. Yin took to investigating them.

So, Erret focused on the desk. Of intricate design, its aesthetic was wasted by its inelegant cover of papers. As he ghosted over the pages, he noticed battle plans for types of mages, commissions for petricite to different battalions, and nothing specifically interesting. Items of that type, Erret believed, he'd find in the cabinet behind the desk. The promise was only heightened when he opened the cabinet, revealing a few folders and...

"Safe," he announced, "No key. Yin?"

"Of course there's no key," the hemomancer teased, "And here I was worrying that I wouldn't have a challenge today."

Erret traded places with his partner and watched her pull her magic. Yin bit against her thumb, bringing forth a prick of blood. From the open wound blood flowed, but not down skin; under Yin's control the blood floated in place. The hemomancer pressed the bloody thumb to the safe's keyhole. With the blood finding each crack and crevice in the keyhole, the safe quickly opened.

"Alright then, let's see what we have here..." Yin snatched up the first file and gaped, "Huh. That's... oh boy."

"What'd you find?"

She handed him the file. It consisted of two old sheets ripped from a book and a new sheet with a heading and list. The older sheets seemed to be written on in old Noxian; a curiosity that likely would've piqued Xander's interest. Of course, that was assuming the topic heading on the neeast sheet didn't demand the Left Hand's attention at first glance.

"Not bad for our first stolen document," Erret concluded.

His lover chuckled, "Not quite. Whoever's office this is, they've got great reads. Rune War histories, old lineages, studies of petricite, and those are just the first three!"

"So we'll be in here for a while," Gerris assumed from the doorway. He was quiet for a moment, then continued, "Well, we don't currently seem to be blockaded; the troops moved on. But we should probably hurry up before whoever this office belongs to gets back."

Erret nodded, "Right… Gerris, anything by the door to tell us who that'd be?"

"No. You have anything on the desk?"

"Nope. Just papers."

"Have you checked under?"

"Not yet, I'll have a look… Oh. Oh shit."

"Well, what is it?"

"We're getting out of this room ASAP."

From the vault, Yin poked her head out, "Wait, why?"

Erret let the golden mask on the desk speak for him.

* * *

"Thank me? For what?"

It disturbed Xander that he enjoyed watching Lux's incredulous face. He hoped to himself that it was satisfaction at seeing his plan work, but he wasn't about to give himself the benefit of the doubt. With a breath, he steeled his heart, and watched the play of his making.

Nocturne continued the conversation, "Your actions in the past few months have given Demacia more cause to fear than I could ever have hoped to achieve. Not since the Rune Wars have I partaken in such a feast..."

A twitch on Lux's face betrayed her inner rage. Yet, her voice remained that annoying resolute Demacian tone.

"Then you'll be sad to hear that I've learned from my mistakes. I won't let this kingdom fall for my sins."

"Oh?" Nocturne's rasp lessened, and he approached Lux again, "And how will you do that, mage?"

Lux hesitated to answer, so Nocturne grabbed her face again. The demon knew the answer already, as did he, but Xander figured giving that clue - the ability of demons to steal memories - wasn't too terrible a giveaway. Still, he grimaced as Lux squirmed in the demon's grasp.

Nocturne let go of Lux again with a chuckle, and Xander idly logged in his head that he'd have to give the demon some sort of prize for his performance.

"You cannot play to both sides forever," Nocturne declared after a pause, "You will choose... wrong, I think, heh..."

"What's... what're you talking about?" Lux backed away. The invasive nature of memory stealing seemed to have shattered her courage; she clearly wanted nothing to do with Nocturne.

"You serve people who would kill you if they knew the truth. You serve true monsters with pools of blood on their hands."

"You killed my great grandfather, and he wasn't the first, or the last!" Lux retorted with her back against the wall, "And you've dragged innocents like him into this!"

Through his mask, Xander saw Lux point a finger at him. He closed his eyes and slowly breathed, calming himself from the fear that he'd been caught.

Nocturne replied as his summoner calmed himself, "Murder, manipulation... All things your leaders do. I am a demon; this is my life. Your leaders are men; they choice this. You serve demons of skin and flesh, and you still believe you are in the right? If you wished for a safer Demacia, you made the wrong choice that day..."

"If you think I'm siding with Sylas, then I'm going to have to disappoint you," Lux replied, taking steps away from Nocturne.

Nocturne projected his mood through the hall. Xander knew that Lux could imagine the demon's smirk.

"Then you will fail to protect what you hold dear. And I will come to thank you again."

"You won't."

"Oh?"

Lux took a step away from Nocturne as she declared, "I'm not letting you get away this time!"

Nocturne's eyes narrowed in amusement, but quickly widened, "Oh."

Before Xander could send a mental message to ask, Lux bolted towards him. The shade of black quickly gained on her, but the light mage's head start was just large enough. Lux clasped Xander's head, and even through shut eyelids, Xander's world was filled with warmth and light. The Left Hand didn't mind the former, but the latter burned like a star. He yelled at the overload, which was thankfully soon replaced with a chill and shadows.

_You're on the ground,_ Nocturne quickly informed, _Get up!_

_Alright, give me a sec._

With a groan of effort, Xander opened his eyes. Sensation returned to his body and he felt the hard floor on his back. He also felt a warm weight on his stomach. When his eyes focused, Xander saw Lux's blue eyes, full of worry and concern, staring down at him.

"Are you alright?" she asked, "Did that work?"

Xander didn't reply, instead slowing his breathing again. After mentally pushing aside the compromising position he was in, he growled and cleared his throat. As Lux panicked, Xander grabbed her wrist and spoke with Nocturne's voice.

"Not quite."

The demon sent a jump-scare spell to the Crownguard mage, forcing her off with a yelp of fear. As Xander recovered, a question grew in the Left Hand's head.

_You noticed something before Lux blasted me, didn't you?_ Xander asked as he pulled Lux closer to him, _Lux's gambit wouldn't have worked, so why get close to me?_

_Why do you think?_ Nocturne snorted before answering the question, _a squad of soldiers will turn the corner soon. Including some old friends._

_Really? Them too?_ Behind his mask, Xander smirked. Despite some resistance, the Left Hand wrapped an arm around Lux's waist. The remaining arm lay by his side, its blade ready.

_Well, I suppose a challenge was coming..._

* * *

"Remember, do not engage until we give the signal; my sister is hostage to the enemy!"

As the men at Garen's side affirmed their leader's orders, the Might of Demacia shared a glance with his friend. Jarvan had fortunately been sparring with Xin Zhao before the alert came, and was armed and armoured for the task at hand. Where the seneschal was currently preparing the rest of the guard, should the worst come to pass, Jarvan followed him, Drakebane in hand. From the look in Jarvan's eyes, it seemed lance of the Lightshields would have its fill by night's end.

"Jarvan, are you alright?" Garden cautiously asked.

"I'll be fine," he replied without looking at him. Jarvan seemed to sense Garen's concerned stare, however, then explained, "My father died in this palace. I won't let Lux meet the same fate."

"We won't."

For a moment, Jarvan glanced at Garen and shares a brief smile. He quickly dropped it, however, turning to focus ahead. Garen could only do the same. The two men led their men through the royal halls, eventually turning the corner to Lux's room.

The sight Garen met chilled his blood.

The hallway to his sister's room was infected with darkness. Tendrils of shadow crawled the corners and a dark stain blackened the petricite walls. By the relatively untouched doorway of Lux's room were a couple of bodies, though whether they were dead or not was a mystery to him. The air felt heavy, not unlike the various monster dens he'd been in. The memories of the Stone Hag came to his mind's eye, though the scene before him seemed worse. Worse than then, when a new recruit's life lay at stake; worse than the ruins at the Noxian warfront, where his life and a prisoner's faced death; worse than Fossbarrow, where a demon made a town of innocent men and women its plaything.

At its center, a man stood. Robes like a cloak of death, armor black and unforgiving, eyes pale and without mercy. And as it turned to face them, it revealed its hostage angel.

Garen knew Lux was trying to act strong. She gritted her teeth and squirmed in the invader's grasp, trying but failing to break free. She glared at her captor, but that hardness was a facade. Her fearful gaze met Garen's, and the Might of Demacia could almost hear her cries for help. Garen responded to Lux with a look of assured confidence before meeting the invader's with cold determination.

"Not a step closer, Demacians," The invader finally addressed them, pointing at them with teeth-like arm-blades, "I cannot guarantee her safety if you do."

"Monster!" Jarvan spat with rage, "Release her or face the wrath of Demacia!"

"Or?" The invader's echoey voice was clearly distorted by magic; an ability that only heightened its arrogance, "Thank you for deigning to negotiate with me."

"You are surrounded," Garen declared, "The palace is under high alert; you will not make it out of here alive. Return my sister to us, and I'll make your death swift."

"You really don't know how to haggle," the invader spoke with a different voice, less alien but more egotistical, "But, your ancestor wasn't any different, so..."

"It's the demon from Fossbarrow!" Lux cut in, struggling in the demon's grip, "It w-"

The invader covered Lux's mouth and spoke with its first voice, "Silence... is preferable to your prattling."

Despite the fear that crawled down his spine, Garen growled. He took a step forward, to which the invader stepped back, closer to the hallway's window.

"I'd be willing to extend your territory," the invader spoke with its decidedly more human voice, "That line is now the one you won't cross. Or she gets it."

"I thought you weren't going to kill me," Lux muttered with irritation.

"Me, cutting off perfectly viable paths to success?" the invader chuckled, "Those Demacian limits don't chain me."

Emboldened by the secret Lux let out, Garen took another step. The invader flinched then put a blade to Lux's throat.

"I've been generous, but that's it!" the invader snapped, "Not a step closer!"

Garen stepped back and sent a glance to Jarvan. After sharing a nod, the two set their weapons on the ground. Their soldiers - at least, the ones armed with spears - followed suit.

"Ah. That's good," the invader crooned, "Well, I'm sure you have your questions, however few. Ask away."

Garen blinked, "What?"

"Questions. Quandaries... Mysteries that you expect us to answer," the invader switched its voice to its original with the final point, "You can ask. We shall answer."

Jarvan joined Garen's side and pointed Drakebane at the invader, "The crown will not have your empty lies."

"My prince!"

Garen traded a glance with Jarvan, urging caution by expression. In turn, Demacia's Exemplar responded not with rage but conviction. It seemed he wouldn't be moved.

"Jarvan, your words..."

"I know, Garen," his eyes held a solemn expression underlaid with focus, "Trust me, Garen."

The tiniest smirk twitched on Jarvan's face before returning to the grim frown he previously sported. The prince glanced back at the invader, who was feigning a yawn. The act made Garen's blood boil, but he kept his feet planted and still.

"Are you done?" the invader asked.

"Quite so, wretch."

"I'll let that insult slide. Now, you were saying?"

"... Your lies will not stain our ears. Swear to me, the king, that your words shall be true! Only then shall we ask our questions!"

A chuckle came from the demon, "You would ask for a demon's oath?"

"You have shown us great generosity. Even if you are guilty of crimes punishable by death, we will reciprocate."

Garen did his best to hide his double take, and Jarvan seemed to give the same effort to sneaking a cheeky grin to his friend. The Might of Demacia shook his head as he realised Jarvan's plan. He imagined when they were to distract the invader, they would be using their martial skills. Perhaps in reflection of his new throne, Jarvan was trying a different approach. It was still obscenely dangerous, given who had her life on the line. But, given that the invader's arms were by their sides, and that the alleged killer was showing amusement, it seemed to be working.

"We are honoured," the invader replied, "But, we must confess, we were unaware you had ascended to the throne."

Jarvan's grimace took a sincere turn, but his response was resolute, "My father was king before me, and I am his heir. I had hoped not to take the throne until I was ready. But, my kingdom's enemy will not wait, so I shall not."

"Bold. Brash. One wonders if you are up to the task," the demon mused, stepping away all the while, "But alas, you have requested I retract my silver tongue, so I shall hold my thoughts. Ask away."

Jarvan glanced at Garen, and the Dauntless captain took his queue to ask, "Who and what are you?"

"...I am Nocturne, demon of dreams. My domain is the mind, and my weapon is fear."

Jarvan cautiously asked next, "Why are you here?"

"In this hallway, with the lady Crownguard as my hostage?"

"Speak true or die silent."

"Very well," Nocturne sighed, amused, "She is an interesting character. Her morals, her blood, her connections..."

As the invader listed his reasons, Garen glanced over its shoulder. The window had reflected moonlight onto the scene, but for a split second that light had been blocked. He fought a grin.

"... your families; Crownguard and Lightshield; you are the engine by which Demacia runs. That your kingdom has become such a feeding ground for my kind... I sought to investigate the... quality of its leaders."

Jarvan growled at the demon's implication, "You have been generous to us, so we shall be equally generous to you. That will be your last insult before we remove you from this plane of existence."

"Heh, my apologies," Nocturne - or perhaps, the other presence within, said, "But with that in mind, I think I'll end when I'm ahead."

Nocturne loosened his grip on Lux and swatted behind himself with his free arm. The massive blade attached to it slashed the window behind the invader wide open, shattering the glass and sending it flying off the face of the palace. A nightly breeze entered the hall, accompanied by silver moonbeams.

As the demon stepped away from the escort group, he shoved Lux to the ground. Garen quickly approached, sword ready to deliver judgement. But, he stopped just as fast when Nocturne rested one of his arm blades by Lux's throat.

"You can have her when I'm gone," the demon spoke, "Until then, stay."

"Our threats were not empty," Garen warned, "You won't leave this palace alive."

"I'll take that bet."

The invader chuckled once and hopped onto the window sill. With Lux free from the invader's blades, Garen rushed to his sister's side. Nocturne watched as Garen collected his sister and backed into her bedroom's doorway. Garen raised his blade to the invader, to no response. But, he wasn't looking for one; he just needed time. Hard thuds told Garen that Jarvan was charging behind him, but his ears were to the window, beyond the invader. With a grin, Garen watched as moonlight gave way to darkness, yet the invader did not notice.

"I'll be seeing you around," the invader started, before turning, and without a doubt, dropping his smirk, "Ah. Well played."

The screech of an eagle heralded the arrival of their ace in the hole. Recently summoned for special orders, the newly appointed head of the ranger-knights was by far their most adaptable soldier. With her partner, the azurite eagle Valor, Quinn of Uwendale was a swift, often unseen threat that struck before her enemies realised it. The invader was only slightly more competent than the ranger's usual targets in that regard.

Nocturne was only able to lighten the effects of the kick Quinn sent. The strike, originally aimed at the demon's head, instead struck him on his chest. The strike sent him down to the hallway, and if not for magic-boosted movements, the invader likely would've met his end on Jarvan's lance. Instead, the invader made a deft roll, quickly swept Jarvan under his legs, and charged the soldiers. Swift slashes from the arm-blades neutralised the hastily formed defensive line, either by defanging the soldier's spears or, in two cases, slashing arms off entirely. As the victims' scream of pain filled the hall, the invader stole one victim's spear and dropped... something. It was far too small to be a smoke bomb, yet the second it hit the floor, the junction was filled with a red mist.

Three seconds too late, Jarvan got to the line. With swift waves of his spear, Jarvan cleared some of the mist. The invader bolted to the door of the apartments before turning to briefly face Jarvan.

"Take the mist, we can call it even!" the invader jested.

Jarvan approached, "Damn you-"

Too late. With his final words, the invader continued his escape.

Jarvan turned to the party, "Quinn-"

The ranger-knight of Uwendale flew past, her bird carrying her, "Already on it!"

Jarvan nodded as the ranger-knight passed him, then addressed the rest of the men, "You and Garen, protect Lux and the wounded. Everyone else, follow me!"

The king didn't bother listen to his men's affirmations; he knew they would follow their orders. After sharing a glance with Garen, he took Drakebane in his two hands and charged, point first. As the footsteps of the men faded, Garen turned to Lux, only to find her sister already by one of the wounded's side.

"Lux..."

"I'm fine, Garen, I'm alright," she assured with a frown, "But... he won't be."

Lux had offered a hand to the maimed soldier, who grasped onto it like a lifeline. The soldier's entire left side was stained with blood, and his cut arm lay limp by his feet. The other wounded man was attended to by the man Jarvan assigned to him. Both groaned and squirmed in pain, and held lost, shaken expressions on their face.

"Captain Crownguard," the soldier attended by Lux whimpered, "I... that was my sword arm..."

Garen put a reassuring hand on the soldier's shoulder, "You served well. We could not ask for more."

The soldier teared up, "My family can't... I need to..."

Lux caught the implication, "You and your family will be compensated. You helped save me today. The crown does not forget those who serve it."

The soldier could give a weak nod and return to his whimpering. Unfortunately, the other maim victim wasn't as stable; coughs echoed from the opposite side of the hallway. Garen turned to his assigned man.

"Private, how is he?"

"Not good. I think he's going into shock," came the reply after a short moment, "C'mon, breathe!"

Garen was at the other victim's side in a moment, placing his massive hands on the victim's chest to start compressing. Yet, before he could do anything, the victim screamed once, then devolved into coughs.

"I'm fine, I'm fine... " the victim's voice trailed into silence before rising into a panic as he looked to his stump, "Oh protector, I'm not fine!"

"You'll be alright," Garen assured, only to be cut off.

"No I won't; my stump is... is...!"

Garen looked to the stump and fought a yelp of surprise as a red glow reflected on his face. After a short double take, he glanced around the hallway. He noticed the shards of glass strewn across the hallway floor, but it was Lux who found the stone cork.

She picked it up with a cautious gasp, "It's magic... but I don't know what type. Garen, do you have an idea?"

It took Garen only a couple of seconds to put the pieces together. He approached Lux's soldier with his maimed arm.

"I'm going to connect your arm to your stump," he simply stated, "I'm sorry for your pain."

Before the soldier could respond, Garen did as he stated. To his full expectation, the soldier yelled in pain. Less expected came the red glow, and Garen noticed the red mist the hallway was dosed in grew thinner. Finally, the maimed arm grabbed him, and the soldier's exclamations gave way to stunned silence. Using his reattached arm, he sat up, wincing in pain a bit, but otherwise perfectly fine.

"... are you a mage?" he eventually asked, horrified more at his limb than the subject of his question.

Stuffing down the irony of the soldier's question, Garen corrected him, "I'm not. But, the invader clearly is. He used hemomancy; the magic of blood."

Lux's face contorted in disgust, "Blood magic?"

"It's a Noxian specialty; I've fought people who used it on the warfront," Garen growled to himself and stood up, "I have to help Jarvan."

"Garen, wait!"

Lux grabbed at his arm with one hand, but used the other to clasp his sword. Not expecting the move, Garen could not stop the blade from being stolen.

"I'm going to help," Lux declared.

"No, you're not," Garen rebuked, "I'm not going to let you get killed!"

Lux raised her head to reply, but stopped herself and looked away. After a moment, she handed Garen back his sword; but, it wasn't with a dejected expression. As he reclaimed his weapon, Garen looked to his sister's eyes and saw her conviction manifest in bright, glowing eyes. A quick glance at his weapon confirmed to Garen that Lux had channeled some of her magic into it; it too shined, albeit with subtle light

"I'll stay and help the wounded," she replied, "Stop Nocturne. Remember Fossbarrow."

As he put the implications together in his head, Garen slowly nodded. He turned away, and after a moment of hesitation, started to run. Enchanted blade in hand, the Might of Demacia went to rejoin the hunt.

* * *

He would give the Demacians that; he had severely underestimated them.

After forcing Quinn to retreat by giving Valor a roundhouse kick (and likely breaking some of the bird's hollow bones; he left them a hemomancy healer's vial just in case), Xander had expected the resistance to crumble. Then came the seemingly endless horde of Demacian soldiers, along with a few Dauntless sprinkled in. Three spears, two dozen spearheads removed from their shafts, and a four limbs of each type cut off a man later, among other injuries, and he still wasn't out of the palace.

Sidestepping a minotaur guard's bull rush and cutting its Achilles heel, the Left Hand sighed. He really did ask for it.

A second minotaur guard charged him, but a skeletal astral claw courtesy of Nocturne redirected him into the door Xander was eying. Following the fool and impaling his hand with a stolen spear, Xander looked up and realised another mistake. Met with the points of various blades, the Left Hand had only one option left to him.

_Nocturne, get me some beasts!_

Rather than reply, Nocturne did just that. The demon temporarily left his body to send a flurry of strikes, sending the blade points to the side. With space secured, the demon sunk into the petricite floor, dousing it in inky black. From the oily shadows, shades of Nocturne's creation came. Impish creatures reflected fear of the magical yordles, whilst human-sized sillhoetes armed with angular weapons reflected fears of Noxus. At the circle's center, Nocturne conjured their ride out of the palace; the two-headed pegasus of fear, the Duskwraith.

After quickly stealing one more spear from the floor, Xander mounted the Duskwraith. Before the shadow vanguard, the Demacians folded and parted. Whilst Xander had spent most of his Noxian days as an assassin, the memories from his youth learning to joust and lance from horseback still remained. The stead supply of blood filling the air, enhancing his skills with hemomancy spells was testament to that.

_Where do we go?_ Nocturne asked mentally.

_There should be a bridge nearby. Failing that, there's a balcony a few minutes away,_ Xander replied, We _should be on the eastern half of the castle now. Most soldiers will be coming from the military district, so leaping off the side of King's Rock on the side opposite of it should be relatively safer. From there, we use illusions to hide our escape to the nearest sewer._

_Simple enough? You're still jumping off of a mountain. You're still human._

_Well, when I say leap, I mean use your blades to slow my fall and stagger my way down._

_Fair enough... your left!_

Xander leaned to the right and dodged a flurry of crossbow bolts. Though she worked better with her partner, Quinn was still a threat; and she seemed pissed. With Quinn's barrage blocking view of his left side, Xander could only guess at what was coming. Never mind having to guard himself whilst leaning on the side of a horse. Spearing a man through the shoulder gained him a shield to help with the effort, but that traded protection for more blind spots.

His forced ignorance left its mark eventually. The only clue that something was going to happening was Garen yelling his famous catchphrase ("For Demacia!") as if it wouldn't be a stupid play if not for the situation. Xander's view shifted down as the Duskwraith's front legs were cleaved. Deft movements shifted him into a roll, forcing the follow up slash from Garen to miss. The strike opened the door he was aiming for, and using Garen's broad chest as a jumping pad, Xander easily got to his destination.

Moonlight illuminated to Xander the extent of his situation. On the other side of the bridge, a defensive line had already been constructed. Spearmen stood, shoulder to shoulder, in front of men armed with crossbows, and at their head was an armored man with a long dark-gray ponytail and a grim expression. Xin Zhao, armed with his three-talon spear, blocked the way back through the palace. Xander didn't need to look to know Garen, Jarvan and Quinn had taken the other exit. As per his plan, there was no way to go but down.

"Men, stand down!" Garen's voice called, "We shall handle this."

At that declaration, Xander turned to face Garen's party. The Might of Demacia split off from his defensive line, joined by Jarvan. It seemed to Xander that Garen wished for a duel, or at the very least some sort of final confrontation. Xander saw no reason not to appease him; it was far easier to run from two men than from an army.

Footsteps behind him heralded Xin Zhao's approach as well. _Alright, three men._

"You'd have a better chance killing me with your army," Xander commented, Nocturne's voice joining his in a decidedly unholy chorus, "But, you three are skilled, so..."

"We said we would banish you from our realm," Jarvan reminded, "It is a promise I intend to keep."

"Intent matters not when you are incapable," Xander shot back, "But, enough of that. We've made our taunts, so shall w-"

The whistle of wind was Xander's only clue that Xin Zhao had struck behind him. If not for Nocturne enhancing his abilities, he doubted he would've dodged the strike; even then, the strike drew blood from a shallow cut to his arm. The clink of blade parts gave Jarvan's strike away as well, prompting a parry from Xander's left arm-blade as he forced Xin Zhao away with a stab from his right. Xander predicted Garen to strike next, and sure enough, with his trademark downward strike, he did. A sidestep to the right followed by a slashing spin reset the fight, but Xander remained surrounded.

The Demacian trio was quick to capitalise on their advantage. With three simultaneous strikes sent his way, Xander couldn't dodge; only meet the attack. Having a demon the ability to temporarily be incorporeal helped, however; through shadow-magic, Nocturne went through the strikes and countered from behind, using an arm blade to nick at their legs. Distracted by the demon, they were left defenceless to distancing kicks from Xander.

Were they the regulars from before, it would've worked. Alas, the three Demacians were equals to him at best, if not more skilled than him without his magic. Whilst Xin Zhao took to fighting Nocturne's projection, Jarvan and Garen were more than a match for him. Despite quick, successive dodges, Xander's stolen spear lasted only two strikes from Drakebane. The cyclone of strikes left him open to a single strike from Garen.

The strike sent Xander into the bridge's stone fencing; a painful feeling that was thankfully softened by Nocturne's familiar chill. Of course, it wasn't simple enough; Nocturne didn't need to return to his body to defend him.

_Why?_

_Garen's blade is enchanted. Light magic,_ as he replied, Nocturne raised Xander's arms. Even with the demon's support they shuddered under the Might of Demacia, _I imagine a poor exorcism attempt._

_Ah, quick thinking, eh Nocturne?_ Xander grit his teeth as another strike came, _Disengage my body, appear for a moment, then leave. Then hide beneath the bridge. Bring the blades, that should fool them._

_I was just thinking that._

_Oh, this is going to suck. Make a sound when I do?_

_Of course. We must sell it, no?_

Even if Nocturne didn't will it, Garen's final strike forced Xander's arm-blade down. Garen's blade dug a bit into Xander's shoulder, prompting a yelp of pain. Or rather, it would've naturally; Xander, joined by Nocturne, gave a haunting howl that seemed to intimidate even Garen as he struck him. The fear gave way to awe and rage as Nocturne appeared, then to disappointment as the demon seemed to escape.

As Nocturne's presence left him, his numbing effect gave way to the pain of Garen's strike. Xander growled at the sensation, forgoing his magic filter; an act that caught the Dauntless captain's attention. Closing his eyes and giving a hiss of apparent pain, the Left Hand prepared to draw upon his acting experience. He opened them to see brown eyes in concern, and replied with fear.

"No, no... I was..."

"It's alright," Garen assured after a moment's thought, "The demon controlled you - it isn't your fault."

Xander backed away into the fence, away from Garen, "No, no, no-"

Jarvan appeared from behind Garen; he seemed to catch on, "You'll be pardoned. Nobody can blame you for being tricked by a greater power."

Xander turned his back on them, crawling away, "No, you don't understand... you don't..."

Through spaces in the fences, Xander heard a howling sensation. Nocturne got the message. The Left Hand grinned under his mask, and he feared his smile would peak under it when Garen grabbed his shoulder.

"Mageseeker, it's alright!" the Dauntless vanguard assured, only to be reduced to stunned silence when Xander grabbed his scarf in turn.

"You don't understand, heh," the Left Hand couldn't resist the urge to give a creepy giggle as he replied, "Hahaha... see, I chose this."

As Xander dropped his last healing vial on the ground, a hand of shadow pulled Garen away, restraining him. A pink mist covered him, and by the time Jarvan and Xin Zhao had recovered from the surprise, Xander rose from it, a dark angel. Nocturne's blades formed wings, and from him emanated an aura of smoke. Whilst Raum was more powerful thanks to being directly fed by Noxian politics for so long, Nocturne's demon flare was still a sight to behold.

"The light of the era is fading," Nocturne spoke through Xander, though he injected some of his charm into the speech, "I shall return to snuff it out. Change comes to this land; I am its herald."

The demon flare faded, and Xander landed on the fencing. With the magic gone, the Demacian troops came to converge on him. Alas, it was too late. Nocturne's blades slunk to his arms, ready to be impaled into thecsliff to slow his descent. To add insult to injury, Xander gave a graceful bow, dodging crossbow bolts in the process.

"Until we meet again."

And with that, the Left Hand of Noxus jumped, escaping into the night.

* * *

"Damn it!" Jarvan's outburst was as short as it was explosive, and the prince quickly switched gears. He turned to a Dauntless captain, "Organise the troops; that assassin cannot be allowed to leave the city!"

"Already done, my prince," Xin Zhao cut in, "I had runners alert the men at the gates. Spare captains have already initiated a curfew."

"Good... good," Jarvan sighed with disappointment. A thought quickly jolted him out of his resentment, however, "And Uncle, it's king."

"King?"

"The kingdom is under siege from more enemies than ever; it can no longer wait for me to be ready. I will take the throne tomorrow."

Xin Zhao gaped for a moment, before giving a respectful nod and a restrained, yet proud smile, "By your leave, my king, I shall serve."

A similar smile traced Jarvan's face for a moment before he nodded. As Xin Zhao turned to leave, Jarvan turned his attention to Garen. For a moment, anger boiled in his throat. Demacia's Exemplar quenched it quickly, then addressed his friend.

"It wasn't your fault that you were deceived," he finally said, "How's Lux?"

"She's fine, but shaken," Garen replied, "She also found that the red mist Nocturne left was blood. I believe he was using hemomancy."

"Hemomancy? What for?"

Garen held a troubled look before responding, "It seemed to be a regenerative spell. The maimed soldiers' stumps glowed red, and when we put the cut limbs to them they reattached themselves."

"... Nocturne's host said he chose this..." Jarvan reflected, "He must have been a Mageseeker who betrayed the order. That would explain how a mage survived this long whilst getting captured. The demon must've been held by them, then-"

"No, Jarvan, Nocturne wasn't held by the Mageseekers. You heard Lux; it was the Fossbarrow demon."

"Then why was a Mageseeker playing host to it?"

"... I don't know," Garen sighed, "Perhaps my uncle-in-law will know better."

"Perhaps..."

As if summoned by the conversation, a woman in blue robes parted the gathered deployment of soldiers. She wore a grey half-mask and held a customary Mageseeker Graymark in her hand. She kneeled before Jarvan.

"My prince, apologies for the late arrival," she said, "I wish I could've helped."

"Rise," Jarvan ordered, "Now, since you weren't here to aid with containing this demon, I assume you have something to report?"

The woman grimaced and averted her eyes from Jarvan's gaze, "The Mageseekers have been... busy tonight.

"Busy?" Jarvan's irritation gave way in his tone, "What issue is more important than a demon assaulting the palace?"

The mageseeker hesitated before answering.

"There was a breach at the Mageseeker vaults... Lord Eldrett was nearly killed."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'd continue onto the next scene, but this chapter is already the longest I've written thus far. I'll be adding more pictures soon, hopefully within the week.

Thanks for the support thus far. Please leave a comment; I appreciate any feedback I get for the fic, as it can help me improve or show where I'm succeeding. See you next chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

From outside the window, Yin heard the fall of raindrops and the howls of gales. The softest of rumbles in the distance hinted at thunder. It was as though a god had been insulted, and was preparing its divine arsenal for a smiting session.

Yin knew better, of course. She'd only made a mistake, for which her commander likely would reprimand her. The hemomancer had no clue what her punishment would be. The paranoid parts of her brain suspected the dream world she was in may be invoked. She really hoped that wouldn't be the case.

Sitting opposite her and the rest of the team, with his back against the window, Xander sighed. Unlike them, who were garbed in Noxian grays, Xander wore what Yin knew to be old Earth military gear; a pale and dry green for a shirt, splotches of black and verdant green for pants. By his side were women garbed in secretarial wear of similar shades. Whilst a snarky comment about why attractive women in form-fitting clothes acted as Xander's aides in his head was at the tip of her tongue, Yin decided that in light of her recent failure she'd zip her mouth shut. She was on thin ice as is.

"Alright then," Xander gave a tired sigh as one of the women - one with dark short hair and pale yellow eyes - handed him a file. Likely one of their memories, if Yin had to my guess.

"Walk me through what happened," the Left Hand ordered.

At her left, Erret started, "We entered through the sewers early; nearest window was quite far from the sewage room, so rather than wait for your signal, we went ahead together."

"I didn't have much of a signal anyway, so fair..."

"Yeah, no shit. Seeing that light show from afar nearly blinded me. How'd you fare?"

"Fine with Nocturne darkening everything. Continue?"

His attempts at changing the subject thwarted, Erret continued, "Thankfully a tome of Durand's was in the office, so our detour wasn't for nothing. We took that, a handful of other small books, and some loose articles and reports. Nothing related to the King's death, but that was to be expected."

"Of course. Then?"

By her right, Gerris took his turn to speak, "It was at this point that we found the Head Mageseeker's mask. After searching the room a bit more and finding nothing on them, Yin had the idea to make the Head Mageseeker's compromise himself."

When Xander raised an eyebrow at her, Yin knew her time for silence was over.

"I figured that if we were to show a document claiming the Mageseekers killed the late king to Prince Jarvan, and it had the Head Mageseeker's handwriting, it wouldn't matter if it was written yesterday or a month ago."

"... I can understand the reasoning, but that was still a stupidly unnecessary risk to take," the Left Hand sighed and shook his head, "It probably wouldn't do us any good, but did you at least get a document out of him?"

The words got stuck in Yin's throat for a moment, but she answered, "Yes. Yes we did, actually; I stuffed it under the cover of Durand's tome."

Unfortunately for Yin, her brief moment's hesitation prompted investigation on Xander's part.

"...but?"

A deep frown heralded the next words that came from Yin's mouth; words that disgusted her to think about, "... but... but it seems he didn't, er... do it."

Xander blinked in surprise, "He didn't what now?"

"He didn't assassinate the late King. He didn't even have him assassinated," Yin shook her head with a frustrated sigh, "He could've been acting, but he seemed surprised and offended that anyone would even think to do it. The offense part intensified when we clarified... and when I kept insisting that he had to have done it..."

"You insisted?"

"I was convinced they'd done it! I thought he was lying... I still think that, but I'm just not sure."

Xander glanced to Gerris, who spoke, "We largely agree on whether he's bullshitting... Possible for both. Though honestly, I can't believe it myself, but I think he was being genuine."

"So... the Mageseekers didn't kill the late king?"

"It would be safer to assume so," Erret nodded with a disconcerted frown.

After a pause, during which, the Left Hand's own frown deepened, he slammed his head against the table. One of his secretaries stepped forward

"That may be the worse possible outcome from all of this," he groaned, "I understand why you took the risk, but... god damn it, Yin!"

The hemomancer could only attempt to gulp her anxiety down at Xander's outburst. Never mind the sudden rumblings of thunder in the distance of the dreamscape.

Well, she could try something, "...Sorry."

Xander waved her off, "It's fine; again, I understand. It actually could have been worse, and at least we got some stuff out of it. I'm... more pissed at what you discovered, as compared to you actually going on to decide it."

The thunder lessened, but rain continued to fall, water dripping down the window. It had slowed somewhat, though, and some light broke through the clouds in places. If the weather was anything to go by, maybe they'd survive Xander's reaction?

Xander recollected himself and explained, "We're still largely in the clear. The Mageseekers are still guilty of crimes against the Demacian people; Jarvan's a good enough guy, I hope, for that to be enough to prompt reform. Combined with Lux's being a mage and her eventual moral redefinition, it should be enough to bring him and everyone connected to him over to our side. We just can't out the Mageseekers for a definitively terrible act."

"As compared to mage genocide being not definitively terrible?"

The smallest of smiles graced Xander's face at the joke. It gave way once more to a frown, but confusion and pondering seemed to plague Xander's mind now, rather than anger. As for why, Yin had no idea.

Gerris caught the shift as well, and seemed to be as in the dark as Yin, "What scheme are you plotting now, Xan?"

"... nothing worth considering," the Left Hand replied, "If what I'm thinking is true, it makes no difference. Just a few extra steps to feign innocence to the point that we can't rely on that point for anything. But, we've digressed. Is there anything else to report?"

"Not in particular," Gerris answered, "We escaped, ran through the vault, hopped out a window on the opposite side of HQ then tailed back to our entrance before going. Your distraction worked, so we only had to deal with five Mageseekers total. Three for me, two for Erret."

"Probably for the best, with my obvious Noxian magic," Yin grumbled, "Of course, we weren't wearing blue like you, so they probably think we're Noxians anyway."

"Possibly... but, you guys getting caught at the same time I attacked means we're associated. Since they think I'm an ex-Mageseeker, even despite my use of blood magic..."

"So you're an ex-Mageseeker who joined Noxus," Erret pointed out, "Those two aren't incompatible."

Xander frowned and leaned into his seat.

"Right. Well, we shouldn't have to worry for a while," the Left Hand said, "We'll be focusing on making contacts with the rebels when we return to Sharpstem, so no one will be seeing our merry crew for a bit."

Erret nodded, then, after a pause, asked, "So… is that all?"

"Do you have anything else to report?"

"No. So that is all."

"Guess so. Unless you have any questions?" Xander shrugged exaggeratedly, then stood up when met with silence, "You're in my dream; I can feel your curiosity. Go on, ask."

After containing her surprise, sharing glances with her team mates, and sighing, Yin spoke.

"You mentioned something not worth considering," Yin recounted, "Just in case, what were you talking about?"

Xander gave a deadpan look before sighing and explaining, "I was considering the possibility of Lord Eldrett being a hypocritical shit, using magic - either an artefact or a helping hand - to wipe his memories of his plot. It doesn't help us in any way, however, because asshole he may be, Eldrett's smart enough destroy the evidence."

The Left Hand leaned against his chair's back rest and continued, "I briefly considered using the same technique here, having Nocturne steal our memories of last night. But, we have incriminating evidence that we'd rather keep. On the off chance they actually find them, not remembering shit does nothing. Not to mention we'd be confused as to what the hell was happening, and may end up doing something even more stupid from there on."

"So instead we just wing it and hope the guards believe our lies?" Gerris asked, then chuckled to himself, "Well, Miss de Recht would be our alibi, right?"

"That and, if you don't mind, Yin, a sip of petricite juice to mask our magic signatures?"

The hemomancer winced, then sighed, "Ah, this is my punishment."

"Originally I was the only one who'd need to drink," Xander crossed his arms, "Thankfully, I planned for the worst case scenario. Drink up."

Yin sighed, "I was hoping to get a blood high tonight... but I suppose that was for a job well done that doesn't apply."

"Well, were the one who went and got seen when they weren't supposed to," on Xander's face, a teasing smirk morphed into a flash of inspiration, "But, if I'm not wrong, a dreamscape should do the trick without magic."

"How?"

"Well, you know how a blood high feels. That's all a dream needs," Xander stood up, the file his secretary had given him still in hand, "Ava, take care of their dreams, would you?"

The other secretary - the one with silver-blonde hair and dual-toned teal-indigo eyes - nodded, "I'll get right on that, boss."

"Alright then," with a finger snap, a door formed on the wall behind Xander, "I'll see you guys tomorrow. Yin, you know the recipe for a petricite pot, so I trust you'll get it done on your own."

"As long as the effects aren't permanent," the hemomancer replied, already dreading the bitter taste.

"Of course. Now, this concludes our debrief. Could've gone better, but good job staying alive," Without any other words to say, Xander shrugged, "Have a good night."

With that, the Left Hand left through his newly conjured door. The other, dark haired secretary followed him in, leaving them with the silver-haired one.

Ava, if Yin recalled correctly, glanced to Gerris, "I assume you'll want your usual combat training?"

"Something harder, set to loop on death," Gerris replied, "Maybe base it on what the boss had to get through?"

Ava squinted incredulously, then shook her head, "I'll set up a middle ground for you. Through the door you go."

At the secretary's words, the sound of creaking wood filled the room. Glancing behind her, Yin found that the door had indeed opened, revealing a blue-rimmed blackness; a portal of some kind. After a pause, Gerris nodded and did as the secretary asked. As soon as the ex-reckoner was gone, the secretary's attention was on her.

"Miss Yin, your preference?"

"I'll assume you have Xander's memories... you remember my family's mansion? Specifically, the underground pools?"

After a pause, Ava nodded.

"Take me there with a bottle of hound blood," Yin then glanced to her lover, "Erret, come with?"

Erret held a blank look, blinked, then smirked, "Oh, well, thought you'd never ask."

Yin frowned at the pause. As they stood up, she leaned to whisper in Erret's ear.

"What's on your mind?" She asked, concerned.

"A lot, in truth," Erret sighed, then chuckled, "Care to take it all off my mind?"

Before she could reply, another, admittedly more elegant voice cut in by clearing itself. She found the secretary standing by the door with an amused expression.

"The boss has given you a room. Please use it for... whatever you were just doing. Instead of using this meeting room," Ava smiled wide and sweet, yet Yin could only take it as a promise of suffering, "Or else?"

"Right, a splinter of Xan... see you around, Ava," Erret took Yin's hand, "Let's go, Yin."

There was a pause, then Erret pulled her through the door. The sudden chill that had filled the room dissipated as they went through the portal; something Yin was thankful for. The words Erret had spoken confused her, but as the atmosphere shifted and the familiar sight of her home filled her vision, she shoved the thoughts to the side.

After all, she still had to answer Erret's question.

* * *

"In short, the damage won't be permanent. But, I would recommend the wounded get some time off to recover. Whatever foul magic that demon used didn't finish the job, so your men will need to heal naturally."

At the nurse's suggestion, Garen could only nod. When he'd seen the red mist reconnect the severed limbs of his men, he'd assumed it a fortunate miracle. But, whilst his men were no longer amputees, many had reported the inability to move their healed limbs; only feel with them. The news that the injuries were going to heal soothed Garen's worries greatly, but he still couldn't help but feel disappointed that his men couldn't get back to service soon. He didn't voice the complaint.

"Of course. Regardless, it is good to hear," the Dauntless captain said, "I'll inform the king of the good news."

"Of course..." the nurse frowned, "But before you leave, I have a question."

Garen shrugged with a calm smile, "Go on..."

"I'm probably being paranoid, but, er... Captain, have you seen magic like this before?"

"I have," Garen fought a grimace as he recalled his experiences at the Noxian warfront, "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I don't really know anything about magic. I was wondering; are there any side effects I need to worry about? Like turning my patients into blood-sucking mages, or something like that?"

Garen chuckled, "I don't believe so. Generally speaking healing spells I've seen heal, and nothing else. Your patients won't turn into monsters. At least, from my experience."

The nurse sighed in relief, "Alright. Thanks for the help. We appreciate the work you and the men do."

"We live to serve," Garen assured with a smile, "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

As soon as he had left the infirmary, the Sword-Captain let out a sigh. Whilst it wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been, the previous night had been a mess. Never mind that the Capitol was in fear and under martial law for the second time in months, not even a resolution could be determined. The last attack had at least given them a clear enemy in Sylas; a threat to their society with a face and form. The demon that attacked them didn't even give them that. And the less the point of who healed his men was brought up, the better.

"How're the men?" an oddly dejected voice asked.

Garen raised his glance down the corridor and found Quinn leaning on a wall. The usually determined young ranger seemed drained. The bags under her eyes didn't make the image any better. Garen understood why.

"The men are healing well. They likely won't be able to return to duty soon, but the damage is temporary," the Sword-Captain replied, "How's… your bird?"

Quinn rolled her eyes with some amusement at Garen's forgetfulness and replied with a small smile, "Valor is much the same. The vets needed my help to keep him under control, but between their work and Mr. Demon's magic, he should be ready to fly again within the week."

The ranger frowned, "Not soon enough, though."

Garen thought before he spoke, "...I'm sure Valor will pull through."

"I know. It's just... it's frustrating," Quinn vented, "I want to make that bastard pay for what he did, but I can't do it alone. So, I just have to wait here."

Garen understood the feeling. He appreciated all the down time he got, and used it wisely; it was counterproductive to burn himself out, after all. But, recovery time had a bitter feeling compared to it. It was an itch that wasn't allowed to be scratched. All experienced soldiers he knew had grown used to it; some, like him, even gained a 'resistance' to it, able to recover quickly. But, Garen recalled then that Quinn, whilst definitively their best ranger, was still relatively young. Never mind that unlike him, she struck swiftly and wore leather rather than runesteel; either she finished her mission without getting hit or she likely wouldn't return at all. Perhaps that inexperience explained her irritation.

"They haven't caught the attackers yet," Garen said, "You'll have your chance. For now-"

"Rest and recover, right?" Quinn assumed, "I get it, really. I'll..." another frustrated sigh, "I'll get right on that."

"I was going to report the status of the troops to Jarvan; it might raise his mood before the coronation," Garen continued, "If you don't want to rest, perhaps you'd like to follow?"

"Oh..." Quinn rubbed the back of her head with an embarrassed blush and awkward chuckle, "Well, uh, sorry I think I'll take you up on that. Lead on."

Garen did as asked. The walk to the royal apartments was largely uneventful, with only the occasional greeting from their subordinates. Some Garen recognized from the night's patrol, still on shift following the city's lockdown. Others seemed to be fresh replacements, taking over for others. Even then the new soldiers seemed taxed, stressed. Given the situation Garen couldn't blame them.

By his side, Quinn frowned, "That... thing really did a number on us. How did he get through to us?"

"We don't know yet," Garen frowned, "Theories are going around that we have a traitor in our midst, but considering we don't even know who exactly is behind the attack I'm hesitant to agree with any of them."

"We don't?"

"It could be a mage; it could be a Noxian; it could be a single person, or even a new threat we have no idea about. We simply don't know," Garen chuckled bitterly, "Used to be so simple. There's a friend, there's a foe. Help, fight, so on."

Quinn nodded, "Mhm... if only. Would make our jobs much easier, huh?"

"It would."

Their walk led them up stairs and past bridges and familiar hallways. Therein were cleaners and masons, who were attempting to return the damaged sections of the palace to their usual pristine state. Garen didn't recall seeing as much blood from the previous night, but given that there were still some spots lingering in the hallways, it was clearly worse than he thought. Quinn seemed to be of a similar mind, a frown visible on her face.

It was for a different reason, though.

"How's your sister taking all of this?" she asked.

"Well, actually," Garen answered after pondering, "As soon as she'd been freed she was already helping the wounded... I'm not sure how I feel about it."

"About what?"

"Her getting used to all this," Garen clarified with a sigh, "This is the third time she's been in the thick of things, and whilst I'm proud of how she's faced it, I'd rather she never have to go through something like it again."

"With the way things are going, I doubt your wish will come through," Quinn replied solemnly, "Will her guard be doubled?"

"I'm considering it," Garen answered, "But, considering the trouble she's been attracting, I'm not sure anything short of a full Dauntless escort could prevent a repeat. And as much as I want to keep her safe, those men are needed."

A few steps filled the silence before Quinn next responded.

"Have you considered training her?"

"With a sword?" Garen frowned as an old irritant returned, "I've tried before. It... didn't go too well."

"When was this?"

"... before I was appointed Sword-Captain," Garen admitted, surprising himself. Had it been so long? "Perhaps I should look into that. Or at least, I'll have someone train her."

"You should," Quinn said with odd insistence, "Frankly, things will be getting worse. Lux will need all the protection she can get, and if we can't afford men-"

"Quinn, are you all right?"

The ranger stopped mid-rant, quickly collected herself, and explained, "Your sister's been attacked by two major threats within the past few months. Her life has been in danger. And, if there's anything I'd not want for my friends..."

Quinn paused to contain some emotions.

"If there's anything I'd not want for my friends, it's for them to go through what I did," Quinn finished.

Garen understood immediately. Whilst Quinn herself hadn't told him personally, the Sword-Captain had heard of Quinn's tale from her sponsor. Spry and charismatic, Lord Barett Buvelle was a well known man. A charming and compassionate politician as well as a quick-thinking tactician, the Buvelle head, he'd heard, was considered for Dauntless service when his Aunt Tianna held the Sword-Captain post. In exchange for avoiding said service, Lord Barett lent his eye for talent, recommending men from his domain to the Dauntless Vanguard. His most recent recommendation was a spearman from Uwendale, who he claimed could've rivalled the Seneschal in skill. Unfortunately, before the invitation could be sent, the spearman, Caleb of Uwendale, died protecting his lord, and his sister.

Lord Barett claimed that Caleb's death broke his sister's will, something that was later proven wrong when Quinn returned to him with her partner, Valor. From there, the two of them rose through the ranks, eventually becoming the heads of Demacia's rangers. It was a relatively smooth rise; Quinn revealed herself to be as prodigal as her late brother, and the bond she once held with him was matched by the bond she held with Valor. Perhaps, Garen figured, the recent hardships had humbled her, and reminded her of what she treasured. Valor had suffered various injuries in recent events; the battles at Nockmirch and the previous night most notable to Garen's mind. But, Quinn wasn't the only one whose siblings had been put at risk.

Garen nodded, and replied with sincerity and gratitude, befitting the sentiments Quinn had given him, "Thank you. For caring. I think I'll follow your suggestions."

"Of course," a smirk grew on Quinn's face, "Oh, and... I heard Lux used a crossbow during the mage riots. If she finds herself using preferring that over a blade, I'll see if I can drop by; give tips, and all."

"That'd be appreciated, but I think the High Marshall would prefer her sticking to sword play."

As they reached the entrance to the royal apartments, Quinn gave a short laugh. The guards at attention looked to her with surprise and the barest hints of disdain, but the ranger didn't mind. Garen quietly logged in that he'd correct the men's behaviour somehow later.

"Then she'd be missing out," Quinn shook her head as she continued, "I've seen her. In her hands, a crossbow like mine would be far better than a greatsword like yours."

Garen rolled his eyes, "Perhaps. But it wouldn't be my sword she'd use."

With the conversation ended, Garen stepped ahead of Quinn, reaching the door to the royal office. The Sword-Captain made to knock, only for the doors to open. A Mageseeker stepped out, nearly walking straight into Garen. Before Garen could respond, the hooded man bowed and apologised, then quickly walked out. Quinn watched amused all the while.

"Ah, Garen, is that you?" Jarvan called from within the office, "Come in."

Garen did as his prince - no, king - asked, entering the office with soft footsteps. The royal offices seemed dustier since he last saw them; it made sense, for no one had used it since Jarvan's father passed. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled row to row with old tomes; records from kings and queens and regents long past. Garen did not in the slightest envy his friend's task of having to quickly acquaint himself with them.

Despite the road ahead of him, Jarvan himself looked well. He was clad in royal robes, inlaid with dark gold and pale silver, and a crown lay on the desk before him. Sat in his father's old seat, he truly looked the heir Jarvan III had envisioned. The king-to-be was reading a newly opened scroll, seemingly to the dismay of his mentor. Xin Zhao remained in his armour, or rather he had changed back into them; he seemed to have cleaned himself of the night's filth since Garen had last seen him.

"Good morning, Garen," the Seneschal greeted, "Or at least, as good as could be with the last night. And, Quinn was it?"

The ranger stood to attention Garen's side, "Yes sir. Good morning to you too, Seneschal."

"At ease, Quinn, and thank you," Xin Zhao shrugged good-naturedly, then turned to Garen again, "Your report?"

"The men are healing, and should regain use of their limbs within the week," Garen answered.

"That's a relief," Jarvan called from behind his scroll. After poking his head out of it, the Exemplar of Demacia turned his attention to Quinn, "Your bird?"

"Also healing, my prince."

"That's good. With everything going on we'll be needing your help more than ever," Jarvan then turned to Garen, "I don't suppose any of the patrols have returned?"

"The military district reported an all clear twenty minutes ago," Garen answered, "Not that it helps..."

Jarvan nodded, "Indeed."

The king-to-be placed the scroll on his desk, "I'll have to speak with your uncle later. Perhaps he could help with this..."

"Jarvan, I sincerely doubt he will," Xin Zhao cut in, "No mage in Demacia knows of blood magic. Never mind the fact that no Demacian would dare make a deal with a demon. The invader has to be a Noxian."

"I'm not so certain about that point with demon deal making, Uncle. I'm rather certain Sylas would gladly take it if it meant my death," Jarvan countered, "Furthermore, considering we have a whole scroll recording demonic and ghostly encounters from the past decade, I'd say there's a large chance for a demon to have possessed a Mageseeker. Besides, how would a Noxian even make it into the Capitol? There are mageseekers at the gates, not to mention the military presence."

"Now would be the last time for hubris," the Seneschal warned.

"I am aware. But, you have to admit, my point still stands. We've tripled the military presence in the Capitol since Sylas broke out."

"Then what of the blood magic?"

"... perhaps one of your men from the Noxian conscript army was possessed?"

Xin Zhao opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. After a pause, the Seneschal sighed, "That is a possibility. They swore to the Laws of Stone following their retirement, though; unless they were stronger in their abilities than I knew, I don't see how they'd overpower the petricite potions they were given."

"We don't have much evidence to go off of," Quinn cut in, "Perhaps for now we should focus on other matters. I'm sure High Marshall Crownguard's organised an investigatory party to focus on the problem in our stead."

"...You're right, I think," Jarvan said after a pause, "I suppose there are other things to focus on. Though before I start; Uncle, how much longer till the coronation?"

"Little less than an hour," Xin Zhao answered.

"I thought it was going to be at noon," Garen replied, surprise written on his face.

"After careful consideration, we realised a public coronation could be risky. The demon may still be in the city," Jarvan explained, "So, your aunt recommended we first hold a private one with the nobles. They generally are the ones who care more about that sort of thing, after all. The public coronation will come next week, when the city is safer."

Quinn frowned, "A king's coronation is usually a cultural event, though. People like seeing the new king. But, you raise a good point."

"Necessary sacrifices," Xin Zhao shrugged on his king's behalf, "I'd recommend getting cleaned up quickly. I doubt you too would want to miss the ceremony."

Garen agreed, and addressed Jarvan with a friendly smirk, "Indeed. By your leave, then, King Jarvan."

"Don't call me that yet, Garen..." Jarvan quickly sobered, "Wow. King Jarvan... that's going to take a while to get used to."

"You'll live," Quinn was already out the door when she made her remark, "See you soon, King Jarvan!"

Watching the ranger go, Garen could only shake his head.

"Well, time waits for no one. I'll see you at the coronation," the Might of Demacia promised.

"Of course," Jarvan smiled, "Oh, and before you go, I forgot to ask; How's Lux?"

"She's good, all things considered."

"That's a relief. I'll see her at the coronation?"

"Of course. At least, I'd think so," Garen darkened his visage, "You're not going to proclaim her your wife yet, are you?"

Jarvan chuckled at Garen's brotherly antics, and countered cleanly, "I may not be as experienced in romance as you, but I know better than doing that!"

Garen caught the hint, and before his embarrassed blush took form, he turned away, "That's... good. Good indeed. See you soon."

Even as he speed-walked through the hallway, Garen could hear Jarvan's laugh. He'd always been the wittier of the two, as well as the most cautious. At the reference of his secret love life, Garen felt his face pale. Now more than ever, he wished he hadn't met _her_ those years ago. The Might of Demacia hoped they wouldn't meet again soon; with recent events, if they did, it would mean Noxus was behind the invader. And if she knew about it, a worse situation couldn't be asked for.

"So... you want to talk about that?"

Garen stopped mid step at the voice, growled in irritation, then continued, not even bothering to face Quinn.

"That information is classified, Quinn!"

At the sound of the reply, Garen didn't need to look to know that Quinn held a shit-eating grin on her face.

"Oh?" the ranger crooned teasingly, "Sure it is..."

* * *

"So, you want to talk about something?"

After slipping on his tunic, Erret remained silent. Even excluding the fact that they were in a dream - not even in real life - he had nothing to hide. After what they'd just done, it wasn't as though Yin was blind to Erret's physique. Those thoughts weren't his main focus, however.

"What do you mean?" the saboteur finally asked with genuine confusion, turning to face his lover.

Yin had covered herself in a thick blanket; one of the many expensive ones her family had. She glanced to him with... jealousy? Curiosity?

"Well, you seemed to regard the products of Xander's secretary fetish longer than a man with a sexy, loving partner should," Yin teased, yet her smile held a jealous threat, "Care to explain?"

Erret playfully scoffed, "First off, I'm offended you even made that suggestion."

Yin giggled, then took a vial from the bedside frame. After a second's flash of red, she turned to face Erret again, who stared with deadpan look.

"Sorry, couldn't resist," Yin said, though to what her apology referred to, Erret didn't know. He smiled regardless, assuming the answer to be both.

"Second, it's because I met the silver haired one a while back."

"Oh?" Yin approached him, "When was this?"

"After Xander ran back to the manor after he spilled the beans," Erret replied, "When entered his dream, that woman - Ava's her name, by the way - brought me to him."

"And you're concerned about this Ava... why?"

"Well, disregarding the obvious point that is that my best friend may have multiple personalities..." Erret shrugged before lying back on the bed with a sigh, "I was trying to figure out what she is."

"Other than an alternate personality, or some dream construct Xander made?" Yin snorted, "I knew he had a vice. Bastard... anyway, I said I'd make those thoughts go away. Thought I did a decent job, but...

"You were wonderful, Yin," Erret assured, "Truth be told, I completely forgot until you brought it up."

"O-oh..." Yin shook her head, wiping the blush off her face, "So, do you want to talk about it?"

"...Yeah, sure, why not?"

"Alright then," Erret smiled as Yin leaned on his shoulder. The hemomancer spoke with a smile, "You want to start? I need to know what I'm dealing with."

"Sure, ok. So..." the saboteur frowned as she strained to remember, "Actually, there isn't much I know about Ava, other than what she told me. She says she isn't a personality of Xander's, though I suppose that's what a threatening personality would say if it was about to be caught."

"Well, Nocturne seems to get along with her, considering he hasn't made mention of her," Yin raised a finger with her point, "Though, worst case scenario, he's actually the bad guy who caused him to form..."

"I'd rather not think about that," Erret replied, "Now, what else... assuming Ava isn't lying about being an alternate personality, Ava mentioned that she exists exclusively in Xander's dreams. Something about not following him when he wakes up."

Yin hummed to herself silently as she thought. She backed away from Erret for a moment, prompting an investigative glance. It turned out to be a useless gesture, as even without looking Erret definitely would've noticed the next red flare.

"Seriously. Right now?"

"Apologies for indulging myself for the first time in months," came his lover's reply.

Erret squinted "Didn't Xander give you a vial of high quality blood?"

"Yes, and I was trying to ration it. And that's with it as small as it is; it was more a taste than an actual blood high!" Yin explained, "I couldn't take the teasing anymore and finished it when we left Sharpstem."

"So that's why you were giggling like an idiot when Xander brought us for a briefing then."

Yin flinched at the description, "Wait... you guys saw that? You guys have actually seen me get high?"

"Yeah. Xander didn't seem to notice you doing it before hand or just decided to ignore it. Regardless, your brain still affected how you felt and acted in the dream, so I had to lock you out of the briefing room."

"Well... in any case," Yin blinked away the embarrassed blush on her face, "You were saying?"

"I was waiting on your ideas. About Ava being only in Xander's dreams?"

Yin hummed again, then spoke, "Xander told me a while back that dreams - natural ones, anyway - deal with the subconscious. Certain events and scenes symbolise things to the subconscious... maybe its the same for her?"

"Perhaps, but Xander was aware of her. Ava said he created her, then he confirmed it right after... " Erret's expression raised in realisation, "He did mention the subconscious as well with me. He said he didn't know if she was sentient, and attributed the possibility of it to subconscious thoughts... I think."

"Hmm... ok, how about this: Ava is conscious and sentient, but is entirely made up of Xander's subconscious," Yin proposed, "When Xander dreams, Ava is fed his ideas, memories, whatever the hell counts as a subconscious thought. That could mean she symbolises something- wait... you said Xander made her, right, and that he admitted to it?"

"Yeah?"

"Did he say why?"

"...Ava did," Erret recalled, "She said something about her making it easier for him to reflect."

"I bet she does more than that-"

"Yin, please. I'd rather not think about that."

Yin snorted, then sobered up, "So she's a reflection tool... the other one probably is as well, huh?"

"The black haired one we saw at the briefing?" Erret asked, "Yeah, probably. She handed him the file... maybe that secretary represents the tactical, military side? Or something?"

"Tactical and military... black hair... maybe that's the Noxian side of Xander?" Yin considered, "Meanwhile Ava has white hair and blue eyes. Obvious Demacian side?"

"That... is actually a good idea," Erret replied, "Only, it doesn't makes sense for Xander to be dismissive of Ava, then."

"Dismissive?"

"Yeah, dismissive. The past two times I saw her, Xander seemed to distance himself from her," Erret explained, "The first time, Ava guided me to him, but didn't want to enter the same room as him. Then, now, he didn't have her follow us; he went off with the other one whilst having Ava send us off."

"Huh," Yin's frown deepened as she took note of all the inconsistencies, "That's... really strange. I mean, if anything, now that we're in Demacia, Xander and Ava should be as close as can be."

"That's what I'm thinking as well..." Erret sighed, "I think we're on the right path, though. Maybe Ava isn't Xander's Demacian side given form, but she has to mean something to him."

"But wha-"

A chiming sound accompanied by the room shaking cut off the hemomancer. As the room shook, Erret felt Yin clutch him from behind. He assumed it made her feel safer, but considering that the edges of his vision were darkening from the edges and that he was also pretty worried, the saboteur found the effort rather useless. Erret suddenly felt a pressure on his arm and on his right side. The latter was an even distribution of weight, but the former gave Erret the clue he needed; it was most definitely the grip of a hand.

As if to confirm his thoughts, the voice of his leader pinged in his mind.

"Wakey wakey, rise and shine, lovebirds!" Xander cooed teasingly, before dropping to a serious tone, "But really, guys, wake up. A Mageseeker's outside the house, and Yin needs her drink before the investigation begins. Now, wake up guys!"

A sound like static ended the transmission. Glancing to the edge of the room, Erret saw it quickly fading to black, as if being consumed by the void. Behind him, Yin's grip tightened; not out of fear, this time, but irritation.

"Well, what was that saying Xan uses; speak of the devil?" Yin shook her head, "Fuckin' asshole. Can't just wake us up like a normal person..."

"To be fair you do the same to him every other mission," Erret pointed out, prompting a snort.

"You're not wrong," Yin sighed, "We can discuss this further tonight, or later even. Xan's been teaching me how to make a dream sigil, so it shouldn't be too hard."

"Till later, then," Erret grinned, "See you on the other side."

Yin chuckled again, but Erret couldn't hear her response. The saboteur's vision had already blurred to black.

He opened his eyes.

* * *

Perhaps after living her life as a mage in Demacia, Lux would've gained a fear for the Mageseekers. Yet, as one entered her aunt's office, all she could feel was curiosity.

After all, with her uncle also in the office, there was only one thing the Mageseeker could be here for.

"Lord Eldred, Senior Adept Matkins finished his investigations," the Mageseeker reported, "Neither Buvelle, Spiritmight, or Sharpstem's parties have anything suspicious on them."

"Truly?" her uncle replied, "I would've sworn..."

"All three of those houses are as loyal as can be," Aunt Tianna cut in, "You entrusted Sharpstem with international petricite trade. Doesn't that exempt them?"

"That, in truth, made them more suspicious," Uncle Eldred replied, "The traitor used charged petricite to activate his blood mists. The Sharpstem's trade implicated them, whilst the Buvelles and Spiritmights have the most Mageseekers deployed, so I suspected them as well. Of course, if there's no proof, than nothing can be done."

Tianna nodded, then turned her attention to the Mageseeker, "What of the Galestones? The Tytins?"

"Their investigators have yet to report," the Mageseeker bowed respetfully, "I will return when they have."

"Do so quickly," Tianna ordered, "I want to be informed as soon as possible."

"Of course, High Marshall. By your leave."

When the Mageseeker left the office, Lord Eldred sighed and turned to Lux.

"Apologies for the interruption, Luxanna," the Head Mageseeker said.

"It's fine, uncle," she replied.

"Of course. Well, you may finish your report."

Lux took a breath to recollect her thoughts. After briefly covering what she'd done the previous night, Lux had gone on to describe in detail the events of the attack. How she met with her escort following her dinner with Garen and Jarvan; how they'd entered the royal apartments without noticing off; how auditory illusions had, she'd realised in hindsight, baited them into her room. After describing how the invader had defeated her escort - and lying about where the lights came from; she claimed her lights were actually the demon's host fighting back - the Mageseeker arrived. That left...

"After the demon regained control of its host, it backed me into a wall," Lux recounted, "Since I had a good look at it, I recognised the shadow magic it employed as similar to the demon at Fossbarrow. It confirmed its identity when I accused it of being such."

Tianna nodded, "That matches what we've found. The monsters the demon summoned match what was seen at Fossbarrow."

Lord Eldred nodded as well, then asked her question, "How did you survive? I imagine a demon with a grudge against the Crownguard bloodline wouldn't have spared you, did it?"

Tianna briefly glanced at her husband with a tactician's gaze; focused, probing, questioning. The two shared looks before Tianna turned the fearsome gaze on Lux. The light mage did her best to hide her fear before responding.

"The demon... did, actually."

Both Tianna and Eldred raised eyebrows at her statement. Lux elaborated.

"It said that it wasn't here to kill me, or anyone. In fact, it said it came to thank me."

"For what?" Eldred's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"The demon claimed that I was responsible for causing a suffering that was sustaining it and other demons. I can't think of anything I've done that's caused great suffering, but..."

Unbeknownst to her husband, Tianna sent a glare at Lux. Though the light mage was able to hide it, the feeling of fear crawling up her spine remained troubling.

"It must believe you freed Sylas," Tianna declared. With her glare, Lux now knew that her aunt believed she had, but for whatever reason she decided against outing her; a choice Lux was thankful for, "If you were responsible for the mage revolution, that would suffice as an act."

Lux decided to take the helping hand her aunt offered, "I didn't take kindly to the demon's words and tried to fight back. It didn't work, though."

"And it still didn't kill you?" Lord Eldred asked.

"It was about to, but it seemed to sense Garen and Jarvan approaching, so it used me as a hostage," Lux explained, "From there, you know the rest."

"Garen and the Prince arrived, stalled to allow the Ranger-Knight to come in from behind, then the whole mess that was trying to capture it," Eldred bitterly summarised, "Is that all?"

"Yes, uncle."

"Mhm..." Eldred frowned, "I was hoping for more. Nonetheless, you have my thanks."

"I'm happy to help all I can."

"As you should," Tianna cut in, "Now, Lux, I believe you should prepare for the coronation. Shall I escort you to your quarters?"

Lux knew that it wasn't an offer, and stood up, "Yes, aunt. By your leave, uncle."

"You have it," Eldred nodded, "I shall see you at the coronation."

"Of course. You as well, uncle."

They left the Head Mageseeker's solar silently, then walked the halls of the Mageseeker complex without words. As they crossed a street from the complex to the palace, the setting sun's rays illuminated to Lux the stiffness in her aunt's movements. As Lux followed, she could only guess at why it was so.

Lux had developed a few ideas when they finally reached her aunt's solar. Whilst she was more acquainted with Tianna's office at the Crownguard estate, she'd gotten more acquainted with this one in recent times. Between the incursion at Nockmirch, the unknown whereabouts of the Mage Rebellion, and the resulting uptake of soldiers, the High Marshall found it necessary to live closer to her work. Said work often gave way to family matters, however; namely, micromanaging Lux's every action, it seemed.

"Sit," Tianna ordered. Lux complied.

"I suppose we'll start with the basics," the High Marshall sighed as she took the seat opposite Lux, "I'm sure you're aware of the risks using your abilities at such an extent in the palace."

"I am aware, and I'm sure you're aware of my limited choices at the time," Lux countered.

"Which is why I won't be reprimanding you for defending yourself before Garen and the Prince could arrive," Tianna noted, "But, enchanting Garen's sword to banish the demon was reckless at best."

"My magic directly counters the demon's; it's how I freed the steward's son from the demon at Fossbarrow," Lux explained, utterly shameless in her magic, "I couldn't be seen blasting the demon directly, so I had to go for the next best thing."

"It wouldn't have worked regardless," Tianna said, "If Garen's judgement is correct, and I believe it is, the demon has the host's consent."

The response on Lux's lips faded before it could be spoken, "What? Wait, but..."

"I can understand why you'd be confused," Tianna admitted, tone turning softer by the tiniest margin; if her aunt wasn't so stern all the time, Lux doubted she'd have caught the change, "From what you said about the Fossbarrow demon, this one acting more merciful would seem to be the result of a stronger host. Unfortunately, that was true."

"...I haven't been told the full story yet. What happened?"

"At the end of the escape, your brother, the King, and the Seneschal fought the demon, three on one. The demon temporarily left its host to make the odds three on two, but it didn't seem to be working," Tianna explained, "The demon then feigned being permanently expelled by Garen's strikes, appearing to abandon its host to Garen. Your brother let his guard down when he tried to calm the host down, allowing him to turn the tides. Between the surprise factor and the returning demon's power, both demon and host was able to escape your brother's clutches."

"The host summoned Nocturne back?"

Tianna paused, "You know its name?"

"It introduce itself as such."

"I see. Whatever the case, the actions the host took to make you believe it was under the demon's thrall were likely an act," Tianna continued, not caring for Lux's reaction, "Which brings me to the main reason we're here. That demon... what did it truly say?"

Lux flinched at the accusation. She wasn't sure how Tianna knew what the demon said, or even if she knew. Nonetheless, she couldn't lie. Her aunt would sniff out any bluff she gave anyway.

"I wasn't lying when I said the demon thanked me. But, it wasn't because it thought I freed Sylas," the light mage answered, "It seemed to suggest that not supporting Sylas was the action that 'caused great suffering'. As if he wasn't the one who killed Jarvan's father and is causing a war..."

"Indeed," Tianna regarded her coolly. She'd given Lux quite the talking down after she'd returned from escorting pacifist mages from the capitol. Needless to say, she didn't quite buy Lux's hostility for the Unshackled mage.

Which was a shame, because in truth, Lux's feelings were quite genuine. She agreed that Demacia's treatment of mages was unjust, and needed to be changed. That was all they shared at this point. At the time, Lux hadn't learned of Jarvan's father's murder. Yet, as she'd escorted the mages out of the capitol, the true horror of what Sylas had done to Jarvan had dawned on her. She couldn't have anything but contempt for someone who'd go so low, never mind supporting or, Protector preserve her, being attracted to them.

Lux channeled those feelings when she replied to her aunt, "I didn't take kindly to it."

"So it would seem," Tianna nodded, "Then the demon was trying to trick you into making a mistake that would make it stronger."

"I thought the same. I wasn't sure about the host, though."

"The host that's bonded completely with the demon?" the High Marshall's face was the look of disappointment.

Lux hoped to change that, "The demon's intent was to cause as much suffering as possible; it believed tricking me into joining the mages would do so. Yet, so would killing Jarvan, or Garen, or anybody, really. Yet, the demon struck didn't strike to kill, and even used blood magic to heal those it maimed. Why would that be if the host wasn't completely under the demon's control?"

"So you still believe the host can be saved?" Tianna asked. The High Marshall seemed to shrug the question off immediately, leaning into her chair, "Mercy has its value, but not here, not now."

Lux bristled internally at the point. Her compassion seemed to be something Tianna had a problem with. But, whilst Lux was naturally more merciful than her aunt, she knew how the High Marshall worked. "That demon might be more powerful than Sylas, and its host is at least an equal. If we don't free him, the mage revolution will gain a threatening ally."

"Perhaps you're right, but if your magic is the only thing that can free the host, then that prospect may as well be moot."

Lux understood immediately, "You're not going to let me try."

"No. It would be to costly to try contain both host and demon, assuming they aren't melded completely together at this point," Tianna frowned, "In truth, I suspect this most recent attack was our last chance to free the host. Even if you had your brother's martial skill, with the rebels still missing we don't have the manpower to sustain a hunt. Unless the demon comes for you again, you won't have the chance."

Unable to argue with the truth, Lux sighed, "Alright then. So what now?"

"Now, we fix an ongoing problem," Tianna replied, taking a stern tone once more, "For what ever reason, you've found yourself consistently in danger's eye. Save for Fossbarrow, it's found you wanting each time. We'll be changing that."

Ignoring the insult, Lux asked, "How so?"

"Your brother approached me after the coronation with a suggestion. With the rising tensions in the country, he believed you should learn how to use a sword. I for one agreed."

Lux frowned, recalling the last time Garen had tried to teach her swordplay, "I'm not sure that would work."

Tianna caught the implication, "Fighting like Garen never would've worked for you. Thankfully, that demon's rampage forced many good swordswomen to take medical leaves; among them Alys Morn. She's as good a warrior as your brother, and perhaps more technically skilled. I've arranged for her to be attached to your escort, at least until her recovery is finished. Between her and your escort's relative skill, you should be able to learn something."

Lux had barely recognised the name of Alys Morn before reading her aunt's 'should' as 'will'. Putting that aside, the light mage reflected that if even half of what Garen said about Alys Morn's training program was true, it wouldn't be enjoyable.

"When will this start?"

"Tomorrow at earliest. Miss Morn still has yet to regain use of her torn arm. The healers claim it should be back in two days time; knowing Morn, I believe she'll be ready sooner."

Lux sighed, "Very well then."

Tianna regarded Lux quietly for a few seconds before softening her gaze and speaking, "I know don't want this, but this time, it truly is for your good. This arrangement isn't about the family name. Much is happening, you need to learn to defend yourself as a Demacian should."

"I understand," Lux replied, "And I'll do it."

Tianna didn't smile, but the shine in her eyes was the closest thing to it that Lux had seen since youth, "Good. It's high time you took to your heritage. Strength through discipline."

"Honor through diligence," Lux finished the motto, gave a respectful nod, and left her aunt's office.

Whilst not to the same extent as her brother, Lux had embraced the motto as a guiding force through her life. Perhaps her commitment to it wasn't as obvious as Garen's heroics, but any of her teachers would agree that she followed the Crownguard motto to the letter. The praise Garen gained from his demonstrations of the motto did admittedly irk her somewhat, but she was content with her own achievements.

Yet, with the troubles ahead, Lux suspected - and hoped against the idea - that she'd have to match her brother to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I guess 9k chapters are just my norm now. I guess I can't condense to save my life!
> 
> I've posted the pictures for the previous chapter on my Deviant Art, which, again, is linked on my profile. I've also integrated them in the chapter. Check it out if you're interested. Within the upcoming week, I'll hopefully be able to get this chapter's image up as well.
> 
> As always, thanks for the support thus far. Please leave a comment; I appreciate any feedback I get for the fic, as it can help me improve or show where I'm succeeding. Late Merry Christmas, see you next chapter, and have a happy new year!


	12. Chapter 12

Two evenings ago, they had arrived at Sharpstem.

The harbor had been half illuminated by twilight hues, the other half shrouded in shadow. Torches were in the process of being illuminated as workers began closing shop for the day. Stalls were closed, fishing ships tied to dock and harvested, and roads filled by moving feet. However, through the mist of goodbyes, evening greetings, and last minute scales, a sense of anxiety could be sensed.

It reminded Gerris of the hours before the Trifarian Proclamation.

In those hours, only mystery was certain. Rumors had come of what had happened, but nobody had the full picture. It was known General Boram Darkwill was gone; dead or missing was unknown. The same went for the whereabouts of Jericho Swain and Draven the Executioner; dead, missing, unknown. Theories rose, some closer to the truth than others. Some toasted to the death of a tyrant, others raged against the rise of a usurper. Others laughed, not believing a thing.

Whilst not to the same extent, Demacia's populace seemed to have a similar reaction to Xander's attack on the royals. All that was known was that the attack itself happened; the nonexistent death toll was unknown (and, Gerris figured, would remain unknown), who attacked the prince was a mystery, and whether they were brought to justice was up in the air. Gerris could only imagine the theories going around.

Which was fine, because with the task Xander had left him and Erret, he'd soon learn what those theories were.

The Left Hand had left for Meltridge early in the morning, hoping to meet with his contact in the rebellion. Yin, who had proven herself a better babysitter for Xander than he was, followed along. And that meant he had to stay at Sharpstem with a sulking partner-less Erret.

All whilst training up a local militia.

"Why the frown?" Erret asked from his side, arms crossed and watching their recruits, "These guys are actually pretty decent."

The guys in question were their recruits; the local workers of Sharpstem who were under Lady Elia's direct employ. Whilst traces of their old Noxian heritage could be seen in their features, they still looked the part of Demacians. Most notably, however, their heart seemed a combination of both Noxian drive and Demacian discipline. Gerris hadn't expected the workers to survive a Legionnaire's warm-up. Whilst they were clearly struggling, the men remained standing, striding, surviving the challenge he'd set before them.

In fact, a group of them leading the pack seemed to be thriving.

As they passed by him, Gerris halted their tracks, "Stop, and run in place. You, in the front, you have the look of a leader. Who are you?"

The man, appearing to be in his late thirties, answered, "Anderson, sir."

"Anderson..." Gerris tested the name on his lips, "What is your occupation?"

"Hunter, sir," Anderson said, "My mother was the late Lord Sharpstem's favored game hunter."

"And these men. Your partners?"

"Yes," one answered. At Gerris' glare, he quickly added, "Sir. Yes sir."

Gerris returned his gaze to Anderson, "What are your favored weapons?"

Three answered spear, including Anderson. The other two said bow and arrow.

Gerris nodded slowly before ordering, "Two extra laps."

Anderson flinched, "S-sir?"

"You and the archers will have four extra laps," Gerris continued.

"R-respectfully, sir, why?"

Gerris stared cooly at Anderson, "You have combat experience. You are expected to aid your inferiors and make them stronger, as a leader must do," the ex-reclkoner glared at two particularly worried men, who he guessed were the archers, "You bowsmen will be the scouts of this militia. You must be swift! Now go, before I add more laps!"

As the hunters ran off for another lap around the manor, Erret chuckled.

"You have to give them credit; they didn't ask many questions," he pointed out, "Though, I'm surprised you didn't punish them more for asking the one."

"I was only planning on giving them each a single lap."

"Ah."

"And speaking of punishments, do you have any ideas on what to give Xander for ditching us like this?"

Erret glanced at him with a curious eyebrow. "Oh, was that why you were looking down?"

"Well, yeah. Perhaps I should've asked him to stop his spontaneous additions to the mission, but then it wouldn't be Xander, would it?"

Erret rolled his eyes, "No, it wouldn't."

The two Noxians stood in silence as the non-hunters passed them by. They'd have only one more lap.

"So, how do you think they'll do?" Erret asked.

"The men? Decent enough," Gerris replied, "Some better than others."

"Like the guy you were training? Erdrich, right?"

"Yeah. Decently strong, wonder the kingdom hasn't conscripted him yet. Then again, that goes for a lot of people in Sharpstem, so I'd be willing to bet our host had something to do with it."

The man in question was the first of the non-hunters to finish. As Gerris expected, he was ahead of the non-hunter pack. Unlike some of his compatriots, Erdrich seemed to have much left in his tank. He'd still be sloppier than usual, so the Trifarian training technique of sharpening even an exhausted soldier's skill would work. But, it was only just. That wasn't to say he was perfect though; Gerris frowned as Erdrich and his compatriots' steps slowed.

"Keep moving," Gerris ordered, "Do not stand, do not sit. If you're tired, walk it off."

A few groans came from the recruits, to which Gerris rolled his eyes. He glanced to Erret, who nodded and briefly left. In the event that the Demacians were as fragile as some of the more exaggerated propaganda pieces claimed, Gerris decided to keep the training equipment stored. However, the men had proven themselves capable of Legionnaire training (And Gerris believed perhaps a few could get the Trifarian treatment as well), so Erret was going to get their equipment.

The sudden absentees were noted by Erdrich, "Gerris, where's he going? And where are Anderson and the rest?"

"Firstly, since we'll be doing military training, it's sir," Gerris replied, "Second, Erret's going to get you lot wooden weapons so you can start sparring. Well, half of you, anyway; the rest will be with him learning unarmed combat. Finally, Anderson and his hunters will have more specialised training; their combat experience means they'll be able to pick up the slack for us when we're off on mission."

"I see... so, will stuff like what happened at the capitol be more often?"

Gerris raised an eyebrow at the question, "Who else figured it out?"

"Everyone in Sharpstem who has worked with your party... sir," Erdrich quickly added the address, "We still don't have specifics, but it's clear to us that it was Noxian action."

The ex-reckoner shook his head, _Alright, I was hasty judging Xander. Of course the Noxian town would figure the Noxian secret._

"How do people feel about it?" Gerris asked, pressing further, "Do they hate us?"

"Hate? No, not hate. Anxiousness, yes, though," Erdrich replied, "We don't know what's about to happen, or why. We trust that what's happening will serve Noxus, but we don't know what that means for us Demacian citizens. And of course, the traders are up in arms about it."

"That's to be expected, I suppose," Gerris muttered, irritated, "Have you heard any theo-"

The clatter of wood interrupted the conversation.

"There are enough here for half of you," Erret explained, picking up a wooden sword and handing it to the nearest man available, "First come, first serve. Guys with sticks stick with Gerris. Everyone else with me for unarmed training."

As the men sorted themselves out, Gerris snuck a death glare at Erret. The saboteur replied with a glance of confusion, which was answered when Gerris sent a look to Erdrich before glaring again at Erret. The saboteur then gulped, the message clear, and mouthed a simple apology. Before Erret could elaborate, a man in front of him blocked their vision, brandishing a wooden axe.

By his side, Erdrich squinted, "What was that about?"

"Inconvenient timing," the ex-reckoner grumbled, "We can speak about how the world's reacting to my boss' reckless impulses during the break. Now..."

Gerris addressed the group, "Everyone, pair up. We'll start with drills, then maybe some sparring later. Hurry up, on the double!"

As the men did as they were told, Gerris sent a grin Erdrich's way.

"Go easy on your guy," the ex-reckoner said, "He hasn't been gotten the Noxian treatment yet."

"Well, shouldn't I give it to him?"

"Sorry, but I'm keeping the fun to myself," Gerris scoffed, "Please, leave it to the professionals."

* * *

They arrived in Meltridge as the sun rose.

The windows of their carriage glowed in the light of a new day. Yet, the sights through those windows were obscured by mist and morning condensation. Yet, Yin could still make out the men and women walking the streets; some to work, others to purchase essentials for the days ahead. To Yin's dismay, by their sides were patrols of Demacian soldiers. On all their faces was a contained worry. A frown here, a wary gaze, there. By market stalls, women gossiped, but with none of the amiability of their first visit. From the knights in runesteel to the babes at their mother's sides, the town of Meltridge was on alert.

It worried the hemomancer more than she thought.

Gaze not leaving the windows, Xander asked, "You good?"

She responded in kind, "Well, what are our odds of getting out of here if things go south?"

"About as low as the odds of things going south," Xander answered, "The worst case scenario, I think, is just an extra swig of petricite juice. But, we should still have enough in our system that any Mageseekers there will let us through."

"I hope you're right."

"Just take over on the bullshit department, and we should be fine."

Yin chuckled, "You're the one trying to manipulate a whole country, and you want me to bullshit?"

"I can keep secrets and make others look bad, but my outright lying skills are trash-tier."

"You deceived the Black Rose," came Yin's deadpan reply.

"By having Swain steal my memories! I didn't even realize I was spying on the Black Rose; I just showed up and followed LeBlanc's orders when possible! Never mind that I realized I'd be caught and just told her straight up that I was sent by Swain; the only reason I lived was because she thought she could use me. You know this!"

Yin rolled her eyes with a tired smile, "Fine, fine, I'll take over here. But if we don't even make it to that room to lie, I'm saying I told you so."

She never got that chance. As they passed entered Meltridge's town hall and were escorted, the Noxian mages passed by three Mageseekers; one at the gate, one in the hall, and a final one before entering the meeting room. With each one they had shared a glance with the hooded man after the Mageseeker checked the Graymark. None of their petricite badges flashed in recognition of the mages before them. None asked for an open hand to draw blood, none opened a bottle of grey goo for forced consumption, none raised alarm for the guards at station. They were let into the town hall, and like before, a few guards escorted them to a meeting room.

Eventually, the Noxian duo found themselves in the same position they were in a bit more than a week prior, save for the absence of their host.

To Yon's surprise, the Laurent heir wasn't too hasty to note the discrepancy.

"Good morning to you both," the heir retrieved a few sheets of paper from a folder and laid it on the table, "Now, please sign this here."

Xander took the seat opposite the heir's and began to read through the first sheet, "Yes milord. S-"

"That one's is verification of the petricite transaction," the heir said abruptly, "There are more important papers in that stack. Sign that one and get on with the rest; the quicker the better."

Xander sent a curious glance at the Laurent heir before complying. As Xander began scribbling, the nobleman addressed the seeming basilisk in the room.

"If I may ask, where is your matron?"

"Lady de Recht wished to remain in Sharpstem to ensure the safety of her people," Xander started.

"Check stocks of food and resources and see to the status of the nearest garrison, to be specific," Yin clarified, "She sent us in her stead to oversee the transaction of petricite, then we are to leave for home immediately."

"She wants to keep you two close, eh? I suppose that's fair, given the situation..." the Laurent heir paused pensively before asking, "You were just at the Capital, right?"

"Yeah, same time as the incident," Xander answered, "Not a fun thing, waking up and being told there's been an attack on the palace, and the city's on lockdown."

Yin shook her head.

_Can't lie my ass,_ the hemomancer thought, _That was perfectly executed. I mean, I know your ticks, so I'd read it, but still!_

The words that left her mouth were different, though, "As ex-mages, we were suspects. So, we ended up having breakfast with Mageseekers as they made sure we were clean."

"I'm sure you can relate with having to take shit for someone else's problems. Damn rebels, don't they realize that shot harms more than helps?," Xander added with a grumble that was ever so slightly out of character for him. Not that the scion knew or noticed.

"The Mageseekers were well within their rights, but that irritation is understandable," the Laurent replied, ignoring his question, "And, is that the latest rumor you've heard?"

"Err, yes, milord. What of it?"

"The mageseeker just outside the office joined my retinue just yesterday. According to him, the attackers were Noxians."

Yin squinted in half-genuine curiosity, "Wait, Noxians? As in, multiple?

"Yes," the Laurent nodded, "He said three men in grey armor showed up to Mageseeker Headquarters and tried to assassinate Lord Eldred. Didn't use magic. I doubt a true Demacian would betray the crown in such a way, so it had to have been Noxians."

_A true Demacian? How pretentious. Ugh, and that accent. And three men?_

Once again, Yin did not speak her thoughts aloud, "Huh. So that's why they checked our assistants as well. Of course Noxus would try attack Demacia now."

In that, Yin didn't even need to lie. After all, Noxus had sent them in.

Alas, the Laurent seemed to agree with what Yin was saying, "Dishonorable barbarians, but not unsurprising. It is a time of crisis, and we face war on multiple fronts. Which is why the sooner this petricite is put to use against the mages, the better."

At the tense tone of the Laurent, Xander smiled. He leaned against his chair and laid down his writing utensil with a content sigh.

"And done," Xander stood up with a smirk, "Everything's signed, milord, so now we can get to doing just that."

The Laurent picked up the sheets, regarded them, and nodded.

"Indeed," the Laurent sent a curious gaze to Xander, "You have improved your manners."

"A necessary skill, I think," came the reply, "If I hope to be useful to House Sharpstem, Lady Elia would have me respect our partners."

"Indeed. Do well to continue," the Laurent turned his attention to Yin, "Until our next meeting. Safe travels."

Yin nodded, shared a short glance with Xander, and soon departed. Coming back the way they came seemed was less stressful than going in; the soldiers didn't seem to pay them mind, nor did the Mageseekers. Nonetheless, down the staircases and through the corridors the two did not dare speak until they entered their carriage. Even then, excluding an order on where to go, the Noxians didn't speak, glancing to the windows for peering ears.

They were halfway to the Misty Ridge Inn when Yin finally spoke.

"First off, not good at lying my ass."

"Okay, I underestimated myself, but to be fair everyone in Noxus either knows my ticks or can sense lies through magic," Xander defended himself, "Thanks for picking up the slack there."

"Of course, but second: they know Noxus was involved," Yin pointed out, "What's the plan?"

"Proceed as planned, because they don't know for certain. And before you start, they have very deep suspicions; there's a difference," Xander insisted, "What they'll do on a hunch and what they'll do with certainty differs only a bit, but enough for us to make decent bets. For one, since they aren't sure if it was Noxian, or Mage, or a joint op, they won't try unite the country against us. That means treating with the rebels is still an option for us."

"And that's on your agenda, huh?" Yin asked, "Well, seems we have a timer for that task, don't we?"

Xander frowned, "Indeed, we do."

"Then, just one question: will you tell them?"

Xander gave Yin a cautious glance, "Tell them what?"

Yin responded in kind as she clarified, "That we're Noxian?"

Xander opened his mouth to respond, then paused.

"Of course you can't," Yin assumed, "Guess that's why I'm here."

"I will do what I must to ensure this mission doesn't fail," Xander cut-off, "If that means... no, not going there. Just... hope I don't have to do anything."

"That doesn't inspire confidence in any way, shape, or form," Yin sighed, "And with your luck, they've definitely figured it out."

"I thought I was lucky," a weak grin formed on the Left Hand's face, "If anything, they think its a false-flag operation to get the populace on their side. I mean, me not killing anyone could be an odd detail, no?"

"Yeah. Who's fighting Draven, by the way? I think he can take him," Yin shook her head as the carriage stopped, "Well, I suppose optimism is all I've got right now. I'm right behind you, just don't fuck it up."

"Well… No pressure," Xander stood from his seat with a weak smile, "Alright, let's go."

Yin rolled her eyes as Xander got off the carriage, his mood restored. She followed, glancing back at the carriage crew as they unloaded, then followed Xander into the Misty Ridge. Or rather, she would've if Xander didn't plant himself in the doorway. Such a reaction could come from only one thing.

She glanced over the Left Hand's shoulder and found a pair of familiar eyes glaring their way.

"Well, Xan, I take it back; I don't actually have optimism, and good luck dealing with that."

* * *

_Alright, so... what are my options?_

Xander deeply inhaled as Aislynn escorted him to the back room. He paid no mind to her, channeling what magic he could through the petricite in his body. The itch at the base of his neck was a distraction, as was the iron grip Aislynn had on his wrist. Yet, his personal spell worked, and his daydream began. Free from distraction, and mind moving miles a minute, the Left Hand started to think.

_I could just tell Aislynn the truth, but needless to say, that's a terrible option. Assuming she doesn't rat me out or kill me straight up... well, between Gerris and Yin I'd get a new asshole. Never mind Lady Elia ratting me out to LeBlanc, who will rat me out to Swain, who will then just call it treason and have me killed. Yeah, no, let's try avoid that... if we can._

_In that case, the first option would be... to lie about my involvement. If I can convince Yin that I wasn't the man who attacked the Capitol, I shouldn't even need to reveal that we're Noxian. From there, I'd need to commit to Death-Note level plans to counter my own actions, so as to keep up appearances with her and the rebellion. And if they found out anyway, that's basically game over; they'll kill me and the guys if they could at that point._

Xander shook his head, dismissing the thought.

_What the hell am I thinking? She knows I'm with Nocturne, she knows Nocturne was there. She's already figured out I was there; she was glaring at me for a reason!_

_Alright then, option two, option two..._

_Could we just run?_ As soon as the thought entered his mind, Xander recoiled, disgusted, _Even more stupid. Even with Yin behind me, using her hemomancy, we're both weakened. We probably wouldn't make it out of town, and even then if we disappeared we'd just implicate Sharpstem. So what does that leave..._

_I could lie about us being Noxian. Assuming he hasn't already figured that out, it should be a viable option. I could say me and mine framed Noxus. It certainly is a viable option, I could bullshit some stuff out. If I were a third party, uniting Demacia against the ever-looming threat of Noxus would be a believable strategy; especially given that the rest of the world gives its citizens anti-Noxus propaganda to keep themselves afloat. But would she believe that? Could I pull off that lie?_

"Maybe if you remembered I have the same powers as you, you could've," an irritated voice cut through the daydream, "Or maybe, because of those powers, I was always going to shove my boot up your ass!"

Xander could've returned to sobriety on his own, but Aislynn delivered on her promise. A solid punch snapped Xander out of the dream state, followed by a kick to the gut. Caught off guard by the boot, Xander fell to the floor with a yelp. His attacker didn't relent, and another kick struck the Left Hand. In the remaining rational part of his head, Xander reflected that it was rather unbecoming of the Left Hand to get his ass handed to him by a girl a head shorter than him that had, as far as he knew, never been in a war, or even a military operation. But, that part was slowly diminishing, as Aislynn landed another kick. Whilst he wished Aislynn no harm, Xander would not let another strike pass.

When he caught Aislynn's fourth kick, the mage was clearly surprised. Her lack of combat experience showed, and she had no answer for when Xander shoved her off balance. Freed, Xander stood up and put his back to the door and began to focus. As he watched Aislynn rise channeled a single bolt of fear magic; not particularly strong, but enough to stun Aislynn. Instead of releasing it, however, Xander pointed an open palm at Aislynn.

_Guess it'll have to be option three. Sorry guys._

"I don't want to hurt you," Xander insisted, "Just, let's not attack each other... I'll tell you what you want to know."

Aislynn spat her response like venom, "Why should I trust anything you have to say, Noxian?"

_Alright, so she knows. And damn if that isn't a good point..._

Xander cursed under his breath before replying, "You... don't have any reason to. But if I go down, so will you."

Aislynn growled, "Really now?"

"You have two options before you. Option one is you try to out me; something only possible because I've taken petricite to hide myself. In your attempt to subdue me, you will inevitably reveal yourself to be a mage, and without Nocturne here to help me, you won't have anything to prove me the capital assassin. We will both be in prison, and whilst my friends joining me at that point is all but guaranteed, yours aren't. But, I just might be in a vengeful mood."

"You... You're threatening me?!"

As predicted, Aislynn lit up at the threat. If not for him enchanting the door to block sounds, Xander figured they'd already have been caught. Thankfully, he still had time.

"I don't want to, but if it's the only option, what do you want me to do? Barring Sylas' hostile takeover some how working, my mission is the only way the mages in this country survive, so please take option two, and sit down," if Xander could've pleaded harder, he'd be on the floor kissing Aislynn's feet, "Please. I know I've lied to you, but I swear, everything I've done, I've done with the hopes of making Demacia a better place."

"Even joining Noxus?" Aislynn spat, "Turning traitor?"

It was Xander's turn to feel anger spark in his heart, but he tempered his reponse before speaking, "I betrayed this country for the same reason you did; because I believe it could be better. Please, I'm begging you: don't make me put to waste the past five years of my life!"

Was emphasizing his desperation helpful to making Aislynn relent? Yes. But, it was a genuine emotion, so Xander felt no shame in expressing it. Yet, at first, Aislynn's glare was unrelenting. The mage looked to him with rage and disgust. Eventually, though, with his magic, Xander felt the slightest bit of hesitation. It gave way to a growl, a grimace, and eventually, Aislynn loosening up.

"I will hear you out," she muttered, still frustrated.

Xander let out a sigh of relief as he responded, "That's all I ask."

Contrasting Xander's eager steps to the table, Aislynn stiffly walked to the seat opposite him. The Left Hand opened his mouth to speak, but decided against making the opening statement. Better to let her tell him what she wanted, rather than assume and get punished for a potential mistake. As to be expected, Aislynn regarded him differently; like a rabid animal rather than the ally he hoped to be. Xander forced himself to be still, as he feared even just rolling his shoulder might give Aislynn the idea of a threat.

Eventually, the mage spoke, "Not going to get us a dream room?"

"Daydream trances are hard enough with petricite. I could, but I'd rather not use magic if possible; want to recover quicker, " Xander explained.

"Hoping to strike another target?" Yin all but accused, "Maybe we can help."

"Help them, rat me out?" Xander gave a weak smile before waving away, "No, we don't plan on striking like before for a bit. Perhaps I'll have Nocturne try find mages before they do; play the hero. But no, no attacks for a while."

Xander wanted to think that Aislynn had softened slightly at his joke, but even if she did he wouldn't change his behaviour. He remained silent, waiting for Aislynn to ask her next question. After a brief pause studying him like an experiment, she probed.

"I suppose this would be the most important question; what the hell possessed you to join Noxus?"

"...Old lore," Xander answered, "Whilst Demacia would have us believe Noxus to be nothing but bloodthirsty barbarians, I knew better. I heard, and suspected, that they might even be a better candidate for this world's moral authority than Demacia."

"Really now? What is it, they're the noble, accepting judges, and we're the barbarians? Is that the plot twist, or have they not spent the better part of a millennia conquering the world, like most evil empires are to do?"

"Noble? No, Noxus wouldn't claim that title; too pretentious and vague," Xander shook his head free of his Noxian biases (or at least, tried to), "It's true that Noxus seeks to conquer the world, but its not out of some megalomaniac's wish for supremacy. Nor is that wish born from a superiority complex. In essence, Noxus seeks to unite the whole world under its banner for just that; the sake of unity. Quoth the poster boy, Darius: reforge the world to partake in a glory shared by all. Most literate I ever heard him..."

"And war is their way of showing it? Perhaps I should have their boss watch A:TLA."

"Unfortunately, I doubt General Swain would appreciate the best fiction Earth had to offer," Xander sighed, "But, he has scaled back on the offensives greatly. If not for rebellions, political intrigue, and other magic bullshit, the past few years would by far be Noxus' most peaceful."

"Then what about the Argent Mountains campaign?"

Xander opened his mouth to speak, but could not stop a pause to smile, "That... was actually a Demacian offensive."

"No... that's wrong," Aislynn mumbled, then repeated with steel, "That's wrong. The Argent Mountain campaigns were to reclaim from Noxus lands belonging to Demacia and its allies."

Xander had to stop himself from smirking, _This should at least be check._

"And where did you hear, this..." the Left Hand asked, "The same people who brand us vermin to be exterminated, no?"

Aislynn flared up with the indignant rage of a tricked fool. But, as expected, she couldn't say anything; the statement he'd made was fact, plain and simple.

Xander continued, "The campaign was to take back land claimed by Noxus, yes, but that inciting campaign was centuries ago. Prince Jarvan believed they could reclaim it for Demacia, thus avenging his ancestor, the first Jarvan. Truth be told, if they had been earlier, they'd have succeeded."

"They didn't because...?"

"Swain had just finished the whole army's recall. Noxus' territories dwarfs Demacia's; only in coalition with their neighbours can Demacia actually rival Noxus, and even then they're at disadvantage. Needless to say, Jarvan got wrecked..." Xander frowned, "As well as many of the men who followed him. Of course, I only learned that after the battle, after I'd joined Noxus."

Aislynn's rage was quenched for a moment, replaced by curiosity, "Joined, or captured?"

"Both. I knew of what Noxus was from lore, but until that opportunity rose I didn't dare make the trek. If fate were kinder in the circumstances of my reuniting with Jarvan that day... perhaps I'd never have turned."

"Wait, you reunited with Jarvan?"

"Yep. My joining Noxus coincided with me 'holding the door' for him, so to speak," Xander smiled with genuine pride, but that too faded, "Too bad my noble sacrifice was for nothing. I told the guy; 'Don't forget what saved you.' I literally grilled him about the oppression of mages during that runaway. If I'd stuck with him, I assure you: this revolution never would've had to have happened. I mean, saviour of the prince, the prodigal son returned? C'mon, too easy."

"Sure," Aislynn clearly doubted him, "But you said captured... so you fought off Jarvan's would be captors, then surrendered to them, joining Noxus."

"Yes. Because, if I couldn't enjoy a good life as a mage in Demacia, I sure as hell could in a place as Darwinistic as Noxus. It isn't too hard to make yourself useful when you have a natural utility to abuse..."

"Uh huh, I'll take your word for it," Aislynn crossed her arms and bored into Xander with her eyes, "Yet... at its worst? I imagine the stories we've heard have a kernel of truth to them."

"...Aye. They do. Times have gotten better, but Noxus is still a nation of conquerors."

"And now you've returned under their service. You, at the very least a citizen loyal to the Prince."

Xander raised an eyebrow, "Yes... as has always been my plan."

"And I assume you're proud of it?"

"Why of course," Xander smiled, "I had, or rather have, an impossible mission: convince a nation of ruthless warriors that I was skilled and loyal enough to return home, then from there uproot centuries of flawed tradition to pave way for a brighter future. Despite the odds, I'm half way through that mission. Surely I'm allowed some pride for that?"

"So you're a braggart," Aislynn muttered, "Regardless, that isn't what I meant by 'it'."

"Then what did you mean?"

"Despite claiming loyalty to Noxus, you've been proud Demacian all this time."

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Why would they even risk letting you return here, then? I can't imagine they'd trust you to not turncoat."

Xander froze, his smile stiffly dropping. _Shit, now I'm in check. But, this is still winnable._

"That... is a wonderful question..." Xander laughed awkwardly, "Truth be told, I haven't an idea myself. They really shouldn't... but, if I may brag further, I do believe my Demacian nature and ideals are part of it."

"Your Demacian nature; the part of you that isn't remotely Noxian."

"On the contrary, they are Noxian. Or rather, they can be," Xander leaned in. This was his thesis; he had to get this through, more than anything, "It is well known that Noxians incorporate Survival of the Fittest into their culture. This manifests in terrible things; the emphasis on war, as the most obvious test of fitness; the cruel utilitarianism by which many of the powerful live their lives and most of the weak die their deaths; the cut-throat politics to prove one group's supremacy over others. This is Noxus at its worst."

"And you don't deny its existence?"

"How could anyone deny that? About anybody? Every nation thats ever existed on Runeterra AND on Earth has had this ugly underbelly. Its the terrible truth we try to ignore by propping up virtues and praise. Many in Noxus abhor that all; its just useless dressing, they say. I say different," Xander smirked confidently, "By my view, no nation forgoes virtue. Its why traitors are hunted down and slain with cruelty, its why politicians and generals still need speak words to their troops. Noxus is more blunt about it, but it doesn't mean Demacian values can't be accepted. Striving for truth, justice, and honour? Its more useful than people think. Speaking truth breeds trust, being honourable to allies breeds loyalty, bringing justice inspires the wronged, and brings them to your side..."

It was a terrible idea, but Xander couldn't help but smirk.

"Here's a secret for the road: I'm one of the most powerful men in Noxus," the Left Hand confessed, "Whilst I have my fair share of blood staining my hands, it was not by cruelty that I rose this far. I lived as though I remained in Demacia, helping the lowly, fighting the corrupt, and yes, hiding my magic. I spoke truth, remained honorable in station, and delivered justice to those who deserved it. And I was rewarded for it."

"So, why did my superiors let me back here? Why risk this Demacian betraying them for his homeland?" Xander smiled, half with blatant pride, half in genuine conviction, "It is because I am Demacian that they trust me, and it is because Demacia isn't that they know I won't betray them."

The fact that Aislynn was silent throughout almost all of his monologue might've brought him alarm, had he not spent it all conveying his emotions with his eyes as well as his words. As he spoke, Xander noticed the curiosity rise and the anger fade. Aislynn didn't seem self-righteous, or fearful. There was some nervous apprehension, but Aislynn seemed invested in what he was saying.

Xander offered her a hand.

"Fear and faith from olden days. It's what fuels this country now," he stated, "But, if we can teach them how to truly be Demacian, if we can show them the right way... Let me help you. We can change this country for the better."

Aislynn glanced at the hand, and for a moment, Xander thought she might take it.

The mage stood up instead, "I have heard you out, as I promised. You've... given me much to think about."

Xander frowned, disappointed. Yet, before speaking, a small smile crept on his face.

"You won't report me to the Mageseekers, though, no?"

"I am tempted," Aislynn replied, stepping past him to the door.

Xander doubted she was, but for her to even say that...

_Well, she said she has a lot to think_ _about,_ Xander noted, _Maybe we'll talk soon-_

"Visit me tonight," Aislynn continued, "And bring your men. You know where to find me."

Xander blinked, then stood up to address her, "Wait, what do you mean?"

"I'll admit, you nearly have me convinced," she said, "But I'm no queen. You will have to convince the mages under my leadership if you want me to follow you. So, until then, I'm sure you'll have your hands full."

Aislynn reached the door, then turned to face him one last time. A grimace was on her face, and Xander could tell some final threat was on the tip of her tongue. But, the mage didn't pull the trigger. Instead, with a final nod, she left the room, leaving the Left Hand alone with his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Just kidding, I can still write 6k chapters.
> 
> Unfortunately, my art for these chapters has been stagnant, can't really find the time to do them. Or, more accurately, I keep procrastinating, and the past few chapters don't have particularly interesting-to-draw scenes? If you guys think otherwise, please do include it in a comment.
> 
> As always, thanks for the support thus far. Please leave a comment; I appreciate any feedback I get for the fic, as it can help me improve or show where I'm succeeding. Stay safe, and see you next chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

From the moment he left to speak with his contact, Yin figured she knew what Xander would do.

Despite his infamy in Noxus, anyone who personally knew Xander knew he still had that little bit of Demacian in him. That oddity had served him well in Gerris' warband; his compassion had brought bitter men from other warbands, and his conviction and righteousness brought new recruits from recent conquests into the fold as well. Of course, it came with quirks; despite being his better on many days, Xander apparently had been saved many times on the field by Erret when the Left Hand took to mercy. There was also the business with the Black Rose; he'd initially been stiff and unwilling to do LeBlanc's dirty work. That changed quickly, but if prompted Xander wasn't hesitant to voice his concerns. That bluntness made him politically useless, excluding, of course, Xander's whole assassination shtick.

In short, Xander's amiable nature was a boon in Noxus, separating him from the cynical manipulators that ruled and ordered the rest. But in Demacia, where that was expected of everyone, and where going against it was a stigma; a stigma he'd broken?

Xander's contact knew they were Noxian. If they hadn't figured it out yet, Xander would undoubtedly spill the beans. Which meant she needed to figure out how to deal with the mess.

Her thoughts were all but confirmed when Xander entered their bunk, a deep frown on his face.

"So, you told her?" The hemomancer asked, voice as neutral as she could hold it; it still sounded full of judgement.

Xander responded full of disappointment, "She knew from the get go. Or, if she didn't, when she barged into my trance she probably figured out."

Yin raised an eyebrow, "Trance?"

"Daydream to buy myself time to think, except then I got the shit kicked outta me when she caught on. Embarrassing, I know, but it's not as though I haven't been embarrassing myself this entire campaign. A whole fucking mess, swear... But, I suppose I should skip to the part where we try solve my problems."

Yin blinked at the Left Hand's rant, then suggested, "Perhaps first you should lie down and take a breath. You're clearly stressed."

"Oh, you think?" Xander flinched as soon as the words came out of his mouth, "Yeah... I'm stressed as shit. Sorry about that."

"Apology accepted. Let's get to work," Yin took her seat and positioned it next to Xander's bed, "So, what're we dealing with?"

"Well, Aislynn knows we're Noxian. She figured it out because I was stupid enough to show her Nocturne straight away. But, since I blackmailed her and because we're both from Earth, we're technically on neutral ground."

"You blackmailed her?"

"An ultimatum: you report me, I report you. And, since I know more about what can, is, and could happen, and because I'm generally more badass then her, I could escape and she'd have made a permanent error. So, she relented," Xander sighed, "If I'm not pleased about doing it, I can only imagine how she feels about it."

Yin squinted. It was easy to forget that Xander was as compassionate as he was - more than an average Noxian - given their most recent operation. Or rather, his most recent operation; he'd been most cruel towards her bosses; there was a reason Vladimir had sent her to spy on him. Despite that, the hemomancer pushed her thoughts to the side and continued.

"So, what else can you tell me?"

"Well, she's invited us over to her hideout tonight; basically, it's an ultimatum to prove myself and the crew worthy," Xander said, "Problems are: firstly, she requested all of us be there, which is impossible because Erret and Gerris can't teleport; and secondly, taking into account that extra obstacle, I need to figure out how to disassociate the concept of evil from Noxus for these people, then from there convince them to join us. So far I don't see it happening, honestly, which is why I'm... starting to panic."

"Well, what've you thought up?"

"Of course, the first thing I thought of was resources and information," Xander grumbled, "Never mind that it's a stupid idea because anyone with an IQ over room temperature would notice the sudden movement of resources, these are mages we're talking about. Aislynn doesn't seem to be an idiot; she would've figured using nature mages on plants would make for a sustainable food supply. For water use ice mages and fire mages for melting, and, hell, if she has earth mages she might be able to arm her men."

"And for information?"

"Remember that Erret and I ran into mages in the capital? They were spies working for Sylas," Xander explained, "Of course, from what Aislynn's been saying I don't think she and the great leader are in talking terms... but, she did hear the rumors already, so she isn't ignorant. Only thing we could tell her is if Noxians were involved on something or not. And if that's not useless..."

"I see," Yin nodded, "Well, if they accepted us…"

Yin paused as she considered what to say. Yin's thoughts were the same as Xander's initially, and the counterpoints he offered made sense. Therefore, she'd need a different approach.

_Perhaps opportunities? As would-be nobles, we could send men into traps, or divert them to dead ends whilst the mages strike elsewhere…_ Yin frowned, _No. Whilst more subtle, eventually someone would catch on that we were giving them bad info. We could sprinkle some successes here and there, but I doubt the mages would want to sacrifice one of their own._

The hemomancer remained silent for a bit longer, and throughout her wait she could all but feel Xander's eyes on her. She fought the urge to squirm, and forced herself to speak only when an idea came to her.

Thankfully, she didn't take too long, "Skills and services."

Xander raised an eyebrow, "Go on?"

"Well, starting with myself, the hemomancer extraordinaire…" Yin paused, then made a face of disgust, "If what you're saying is true, they'd be too cowardly to learn blood magic from me… cowards."

"Maybe not that example, then, but I think I see where you're getting at," Xander sat up, "Please continue, I think we might be getting somewhere."

Yin obliged, "They won't want to learn hemomancy, but they're probably rookies in the magic they naturally have. Maybe powerful, but probably little to no control, no technique. You and I could probably round them out that way. Then, we have… er, what was that fancy term you have, gorilla something?"

"Guerrilla warfare."

"Yeah, that. Well, save Gerris, we're all amazing at it. Erret especially. Considering that we're against such large odds, them mastering that would be a prerequisite. And, of course, you, Erret, and I could teach them that… And whilst on the topic of my badass boyfriend, he could probably teach them a thing or two about non-magical combat. Him and Gerris both. Give them at least Legionnaire-level training and we could do some damage without relying on magic. And, that gives us options to sneak mages into the military; something that gives you all the tools you need for your plans," Yin smirked, "So, how's that?"

"Brilliant. Truly, brilli-" the vibrant smile on Xander's face slowly morphed to a frown, "Good. But, not good enough. Good thinking on that, we've got ourselves another boon to try convince them with. But, we haven't addressed the main problem."

"That we're Noxians, and that they'll kill us because of that?" Yin assumed, "They haven't had us killed, why would they do that now?"

"Aislynn's words. That's about it, I'd assume," Xander replied, "And I was able to get away with it with the whole blackmailing thing."

"Then why not repeat it? Gerris and Erret can't make it; bluff that we left them there as insur-"

"Yin, no."

Yin blinked, and the hemomancer recoiled at her boss' glare. Whilst not potent, the fact that Xander expressed anger at her suggestion brought Yin confusion. Without breaking eye contact, she slowly breathed and furrowed her brow.

"Why not?" She cautiously asked, "It worked the last time, and unless I'm missing something, it would work again."

Xander maintained his glare for a brief moment, then shifted his gaze away. Yin could still feel disgust from the Left Hand.

"That, if anything, worsens the main issue," he slowly explained, "We are already hated. I'd rather not make an impossible situation worse."

That was Xander trying to shut her down politely. Yin understood where he was coming from, but…

"The main issue, sir, is that we need to actually be able to speak with them before convincing them that we're trust worthy," the hemomancer insisted, "I'm sorry if you don't want to step on your contact's toes, but if we're going to make the impossible possible, surely you realise we need to start somewhere. Better they hate us than them killing us."

Xander chewed his lip in frustration, "They just might kill us anyway."

Yin squinted, "Suicide for, what, a misplaced sense of patriotism?"

Xander turned a tired gaze her way, "Yes, because in case you haven't noticed, we're in Demacia now. Honor, image, and all that shit actually means something here."

"And it doesn't matter in Noxus?" Yin rebutted, "Lying to a superior will still get you a death sentence if you don't play it right. But, you have played it right."

"Because those were tests laid by people - or rather, recruiters - interested in intelligence and wit. Not to mention they were superiors; I couldn't truly do anything to them, not without dying myself. And they knew that. Now, compare that with our situation. We're trying to convince people who can actively screw us over not just to spare us, but to help us. And they have no reason to do that, because as far as we're concerned, we're the enemy," Xander sighed, frustrated, "Actively antagonizing them into playing ball with an ultimatum will remind them that we're still Noxian _at best._ Assuming they don't kill us for offending them then and there, they will spend the rest of the campaign trying to kill us, because we're Noxians, and Noxians don't have a good image. And for all my charm and magic, they're better Demacians than me and not traitors."

Yin grit her teeth. So did Xander. Before she could relent her point, however, the Left Hand beat her to it.

"But… I can't think of anything better, so fine, blackmail will have to do," he sighed.

After a pause to digest Xander's words, Yin slowly nodded. She had considered that being in Demacia would be affect Xander, but what Xander's explained wasn't one of the ways she'd expected. But, as Xander himself admitted, they had no other option. Yin hoped Xander wouldn't hold it against her.

"So, we'll have to show up, bluff, and hope they buy it," Yin assumed, "From there, you'll have to try convince them that working with us is more productive than working against. And maybe, we'll come out of this with an alliance. If it makes you feel any better, we still have the rest of the day."

Xander chuckled bitterly before continuing, "Even then, avoiding making enemies of them will have to be the goal. Perhaps we can prove ourselves to them in the future, but for now I suspect the patriots in Aislynn's sect will keep alliance off the table," Xander grumbled, "That leaves one other concern... and, er, sorry for forgetting to mention it. God, I've made bad habits."

Yin squinted once more, concerned. She spoke once more with barely-concealed accusation, "What would that be?"

As soon as the words left Xander's lips, Yin felt doubly disgusted. The second wave came from the fact that she had to agree with the Left Hand's points; he was terrible at making himself look trustworthy."

"I didn't need to be here to sign sheets; you could've handled it solo," he explained, "Nor did I need to meet with Aislynn personally, at least in theory. But... I'm sure you've noticed a missing member of our party?"

* * *

It was not the first time Nocturne had found himself surrounded by petricite, nor did he suspect it would be the last. Demacia was a kingdom filled with the nullifying rock, from its deceptively peaceful palaces to mines in the mountains dreadfully dark. Once, he'd even fallen down a ravine chasing prey. It had taken him a couple of weeks to garner the strength to leave. He'd been a young demon then, not aware of much in the world. He was little more than an animal then.

He'd only grown slightly for the following years, until Xander came.

Admittedly his routine hadn't changed much since meeting the dream mage. He still hunted, still absorbed emotion and soul from other sentients. In terms of routine all that changed was a wider hunting ground and time put aside for his summoner.

But what he did with his time... Nocturne knew his methods had considerably changed. It was more than a field of nightmares and blades driven through torsos now. On one hand, appreciation and consumption of the positive side of the emotional spectrum meant he could go months without scaring anyone, never mind killing. Yet, on the other hand, if he so wished, he could fatten individuals - those Xander deemed worthy of judgement, if anyone- like pigs to the slaughter, then prolong their deaths to gain every drop of emotion. If Xander needed more proof Noxus was changing, the black blood on his hands would be sufficient ink for a testament.

Effective micromanagement of emotion harvesting helped in situations like the one he remained in, as well. Latent petricite didn't affect him much anymore; if not for the braces the mage rebels had strapped to him he'd easily have escaped by now. But even then, trapped as he was, it was hardly a death sentence. There were always bodies around to guard him; souls that shivered at the thought of his freedom. That dread could sustain him as long as he needed under a petricite drain. Or, of course, he could consume other emotions, if he wished to expand his tastes.

And such an expansion he'd experienced, since being enlightened. New angers were known to him; the cold fury of focus, the despondent wildfire of self-destruction... and of course, all the joys and humors and those feelings in between. And the thoughts that came with them… now that he had a better grasp of the human experience, the memories he had consumed for crafting nightmares gained new value. Not only were they bases to build on for his illusions, but the deeper meaning behind each fear, the events that led to their formation…

_How would Xander describe it… a grand… buffet. Of food not tasted. For the rich who dine there everyday, there is a routine; certain choices they prefer - or perhaps they simply fell into a habit of partaking, even if their tastes have changed. But for me, so poor and... uncultured… where do I begin? I do not have preferred courses to gravitate to. Where, where...?_

Perhaps, Nocturne reflected, he too had a routine, for he immediately returned to his long time favorite: disgust. There was much to be disgusted about. At first he'd hated humans for breaking into the 'shadow realm'; an uncreative name for an admittedly dark part of the spirit world. He then hated them for not dying when he wanted them to, like most predators were to do. But, with his new outlook...

_Are my kind not enough of a threat for them to stop hating each other? Is there a reason people hate so much? Is it enjoyable to do so? The taste is like suffering, so if that is the truth, it would be an odd one indeed. And it's not as though there are other, more potent emotions on both sides of the... no, that's a lie; hatred burns bright. Tastes strong, like love, and will, and even curiosity. It's why this country's been a… what's the term... full course meal._

Something pinged in Nocturne's mind's eye, and the demon felt curiosity fill his plate. He focused his power into his corporeal form. Auditory sensors and eyes formed just in time to physically confirm what he'd sensed.

"You've returned," the demon started, his voice a deep, long rasp, "You have met with Xander, then."

"I did," Aislynn replied, sitting before him with a frown, "He'll be coming here. Soon."

"His choice?"

"I didn't give him much of one, but yes."

Nocturne paused before asking his next question, "You do not trust him."

"He sent you to spy on me, didn't tell me about his... true allegiances," Aislynn shook her head in frustration, then asked, "Why should I trust him?"

Before Nocturne answered, he caught on to something Xander had introduced him to.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" The demon asked.

Aislynn opened her mouth to speak, but paused for a moment before actually letting words out of it.

"Actually... no," she said, "I, despite my best judgement, want to trust your summoner. But, I don't, so please give me reasons for it. Preferably reasons not specific to his and my special case."

_So, ignoring Earth. There are many reasons to list, but..._

Nocturne gave a disclaimer, "I imagine many of these will not suffice."

"If they won't work, I'll say," Aislynn replied, "Please, start."

"Very well. The resources of House Sharpstem."

"...Not enough, my people hate nobles."

"Free reign of the local territory."

"Can that actually be promised? Because if not, no."

If Nocturne had projected a mouth, it would've frowned. Nonetheless the demon continued.

"Service as new recruits."

"My men wouldn't let them in, and I suspect a noble's heir going missing then suddenly returning would look suspicious. No. Next."

"Magical information. They stole some from the capitol."

"... no. Not enough."

"Access to key targets."

Aislynn paused, "Elaborate."

"You seek to defeat Demacia's armies, correct? We could inform you of local deployments, or bait patrols into your arms. I imagine even the most experienced mageseeker would not be able to survive an ambush at night by trained mages."

Aislynn frowned, "Useful, but... okay, let me rephrase things. Because believe it or not, we know how useful you could be."

"Then you are as smart as Xander assumed."

"I'll take that compliment, but anyway..." Aislynn took a breath to relax herself, then asked, "Give me and mine a reason - any conceivable reason - to trust a Noxian who has lied and has intended to use me and my friends."

Nocturne thought to his reflections and made the sound of a sigh, "You humans dislike being used... I understand the feeling. But I've found good intent softens the blow."

_And, the new world I've been shown acts well as payment for the crime..._

Aislynn's face was the picture of disappointment, "Not enough."

"Because of those allegiances," Nocturne assumed, "How potent is hatred of Noxus here? Will reason surpass it?"

Aislynn hesitated before answering, "Depends on the reason..."

"And uniting to defeat the greater threat of the crown would not suffice?"

Aislynn gave a bitter chuckle, "If it did, we wouldn't need to have this conversation."

"Indeed."

A great silence thoroughly filled the room before Aislynn next spoke.

"So... nothing?"

"No reason good or believable, even when all are true," Nocturne replied, "But, Xander will come anyway. He will do as he always has; whatever his illogical mind believes is right. What that entails is a mystery even to me... no, I lie; I have some ideas."

"Them being?"

Nocturne made the sound of chuckling and made to respond. But, something caught his attention. A ping in the distance; at the edge of his ability to sense nearby souls.

"Nocturne?"

The demon forced his mind back to the question given, "For one... he has learnt to lie, but prefers honesty. He will share many secrets, I think. Information his superiors would not want shared; information that none would believe, yet would be true..."

"With his friends there to criticise him for it? Say, could he beat all three of them without your help?" Aislynn gave a bitter smirk, "Well, I suppose I could help him out if anything happens..."

"Appreciated, but I fear that won't be the case," Nocturne noted, "If you requested he bring his all men here tonight, then you've asked the impossible. Half of his team is still in the town of Sharpstem... But that shouldn't be your main concern."

Aislynn squinted, "And what would that be?"

"When Xander leaves this place, I will follow; of that I assure you," Nocturne answered, "Your hold of me will not last. And if I may add some details to the attack on the capital; we never killed. We have our ways to carve paths of carnage that heal in a snap, and if forced to it Xander will employ those tactics."

Aislynn's brow furrowed, and if not for his being a demon, he doubted he'd have been able to catch the spike of rage in the mage's heart, "Is that a threat, Nocturne?"

"No more than anything Xander has done. He should be done lying to you; if he's going to hurt you, he will be clear about how and why. As a half-Noxian half-Demacian ought to do..."

Before the conversation could fall further, the door creaked open, and Nocturne was reminded of the ping in his soul sense. Nocturne felt nature magic in the soul behind Aislynn, as well as the fear of gentle prey; the fear a small girl may have for a maimed wolf, whose kind she'd been told would hurt her.

Recognition spiked in Aislynn's heart, and she asked, "What is it, Laura?"

"Misty came back early. Northern patrol?" Laura noted, "She said that they saw the Noxians; Garret sent her back over to alert us."

"They're early," Aislynn muttered, "But it makes no difference... Laura, get Misty and tell her to get over here. I'll guard the demon until our guests arrive."

Laura nodded and was on her way. Nocturne allowed a few seconds' respite before speaking.

"I take it you suspect Xander will sneak here first?" the demon asked.

"Yes... Him or the woman with him, makes no difference," Aislynn turned to face Nocturne once more, "Now, we've got a few minutes at best before I leave. So, you're going to tell me what I want to hear."

"And why would I do that?"

"Maybe because your summoner's mission depends on it. Now, shall we play?"

* * *

To his dismay, it wasn't Aislynn that came to meet him. Nor was it anyone he recognised; not from the Misty Ridge or from Aislynn's dreams. But, from the crude steel plate they wore and the stolen sword strapped to their side, Xander assumed the man before him was part of Aislynn's 'masons'. Xander hoped it was earth or metal magics that the masons mastered; the alternative of fire magic would be most unfortunate, given the temperate forest surrounding them.

By his side, Yin's arms relaxed and gravitated to her thighs, "So, are they who we're looking for?"

A smart question, to be sure. With the state of Demacia, the Left Hand wouldn't have been surprised to see banditry taking hold. It was why he and Yin were armed, albeit lightly; both of them had knives strapped to their belts. But instead of the weapon, Xander reached into his pocket with a gloved hand and plucked out a pebble of petricite. The stone glowed, confirming his thoughts.

"It's them alright," Xander said, before sighing to calm his nerves.

_Alright then, show time._

"Hello there," he started, "Good afternoon to you, sir."

Xander glanced to his petricite stone, gestured away from the man, instead facing a tree to his right.

It remained glowing, so the Left Hand added, "And to you, man behind the tree."

"Who said I was a man?"

From behind the tree came an armored woman who wore her onyx hair in a pony tail. She held a crossbow of custom make in her hands - _Is that woven wood? Those nature mages have it figured out! -_ and eyed Xander like a wolf. The shuffling of leaves heralded the rest of her pack; another woman with a regular bow and another man with a spear. They surrounded him and Yin.

"She got you there," his hemomancer subordinate muttered.

"Indeed," Xander smiled, "I take it Aislynn sent you to get me?"

"If you're Yin and Imuren Sha," the first man Xander saw said, "Are you"

_Well, I planned on honesty..._

"They're cover names," Xander admitted, "I would've thought she'd have told y-"

"She did, actually," the other man said, punctuating his words by putting his spear to Xander's back, "We were expecting more. Care to explain that, as well as why are you're here, Xander of Noxus?"

Yin grumbled, "Just going to ignore me, huh?"

"Well, with the heat we'll be getting I think I'd prefer being ignored," Xander silently replied, before addressing the mages again, "For the first part, it was impossible to get all four of us here in time. Our two other buddies are at Sharpstem, you see; that's a full day's travel."

"With preparation," Yin added, "We already took the fastest horses and had them rested before the trip. Our men would be using the tired bunch who carried our cargo from the capital."

"As for why I'm here..." Xander cleared his throat and continued, "Originally, I wanted to come to get some sort of truce or alliance with you guys so we could reform the country faster... but I think that's probably off the table now that you know where I've been the past... shit, has it only been two years?"

Xander's assailants stopped in their tracks. The leader squinted.

"Two years since what?" He asked.

"Since the Argent Campaign, when I was conscripted by Demacia then captured by Noxus," Xander answered, "I could go on, and I probably will, but going back to the question you raised... with my allegiances taking alliance off the board I'm instead going to kill y'all-"

"Kill?!"

Xander rolled to the side as the impulsive spearman behind him stabbed. He dodged the strike and grabbed the shaft with an eye roll and a disappointed sigh. The rest of the mage soldiers raised their weapons and pointed them at the Noxians. Yin likely could've still killed them all solo, between her blood magic and lethality with a knife. But...

"If you'll let me finish, I was making a joke about killing you with a boring speech," Xander explained, regarding the sword at his throat with contained anxiety, "Which is to say, I'll spill the beans on everything. After all, after lying so much, I might as well be honest for once. And I'm sure you've figured by now that my mouth doesn't close easy when I open."

The swordsman regarded him cooly, "Do you like hearing yourself talk, Noxian?"

"He does," Yin answered, "I think."

"Most people do. I imagine Sylas does-" Xander stopped his comment and cleared his throat, "Er, not that I mean to insult your leader... is he, still?"

The swordsman snorted, "He liked to say we're all equals in the rebellion, but... if you're as smart as you are annoying, I'm sure you can answer that."

_So, read: he was our leader, but we didn't care for it, so we ditched him. At least, if I combine Aislynn's sentiments with that tone..._

"Aislynn never said explicitly, so thanks for clarifying," the Left Hand responded, a weak smile forming on his face, "I can return the favor when I'm before your whole group. So, if you're not going to execute us?"

Xander's captors glanced at each other before the spearman pulled his weapon back. As the rest of the group turned around to walk, the spearman gave light poke at Xander's back once more, prompting him forward. Yin glanced over Xander's shoulder with ill intent, but that softened at the Left Hand's chuckles. With a sigh, she started walking, and Xander and the spearman behind him followed.

They went through thick brush and past worn trees. The wood of the forest around them was massive; it would've needed years to grow naturally. But, the vibrant sheen to their bark and their leaves gave Xander the impression that it was artificial in origin.

"So, Xander, right?" One of the women asked, "You said you were captured by Noxus?"

_A curious soul, eh?_ "Yes. What of it?"

"Was she the one who captured you?"

"Nah," Yin replied, "But actually, one of our buddies at Sharpstem was. And he's his subordinate now! Funny world, huh?"

Though the questioner glanced at her with contained amusement , the rest of the party showed no reaction. Yin shrank at the reception.

"Did they... er," the bow-woman furrowed her brow, "Jow... never mind."

"Whatever you want to ask, I'll answer," Xander assured.

"How're you alive? Because you joined them."

_...Oh, so that's it..._

"Ah, let me guess; you think the Noxians tortured me, and I joined them to stop the pain," Xander chuckled, "I wasn't tortured. In fact, most Noxians don't coerce people with torture. Of course, they still threaten key prisoners with death, and every society has its bad apples who do fucked up things-"

"Even here? In Demacia?"

Yin frowned and muttered bitterly, "There's probably some Mageseeker sicko who cuts people open for laughs, and I wouldn't be surprised if people have made false mage claims just to get someone they don't like to die."

"I concur, but if you'll excuse my friend…" Xander continued, "Anyway, Noxus don't torture. Mostly because offering someone something they want is so much more effective, and if that doesn't work there are spells to get the right info needed."

Yin glared at Xander, and he shrugged.

_Sorry bout that. Just let the Demacian do the talking?"_

He wasn't a telepath, but Yin seemed to catch on.

The bow-woman continued, "…what did they offer you?"

"The life I was denied here. They don't mind mages; in fact, they'd welcome us with open arms. I didn't want to die, and I did want to live a fulfilling life where I could be whoever I wanted to be; Noxus provided that, as I expected."

"Sure you did," the leader muttered, ending the conversation there.

Or at least, that was his intent. Xander didn't let up, and let his own curiosity flow, "You were ex-military, mister...?"

"Garret, and yes, I was."

Even with Garret's back to him, Xander respectfully frowned, "Given your icy demeanor I'll assume Noxus wasn't so kind to you as it was me."

"Not in particular," Garret replied, "I fought in the Argent Campaign as well. My platoon only lost a few men."

"But enough?"

"It was war. And if you're telling the truth, you should know war's enough to break anyone... except Noxians. Tell me, since joining them have you conquered any nations?"

Before Yin could respond, Xander stepped in from to her to answer.

"A few," Xander sighed, but stuck to the truth, "A group of Bilgewater tribes and a small kingdom in Shurima, as well as helping put down rebels in some provinces."

"And now you want to help us rebel?" Garret asked.

"Did the Mageseekers release all of you to further their own political gain?" Yin rhetorically asked, "If not, it isn't the same."

Xander sighed, "I get where you're coming from. And I won't deny Noxus has its flaws."

"All nations have flaws. But most nations don't have seas of blood on their hands."

Xander could've mentioned that those Bilgewater tribes were ruthless pirates, and the Shuriman kingdom held to their ancient slaving tradition, but if he did he figured it'd look like an excuse. And now that he thought of it, Xander guessed that he'd been assigned such conquests only because the men in charge knew it'd fulfill his Demacian sense of justice. He briefly considered the evil perpetrated in the conquests he wasn't part of before returning to the conversation.

"...If only that were true," the Left Hand sighed, "But, if you would answer me, there is a reason you're rebelling, isn't there?"

Garret turned to face Xander. He held a baleful glare at the Left Hand, who held his face as neutral as he could.

"My men and I swore to uphold justice and peace. That is why we fought; why we killed," the swordsman spat, "What reason does Noxus have for its murders?"

"The wish to unite all men under the same banner. I'll admit its taken to irrational levels, and it implies a foolish arrogance in the Noxian system, claiming it's the best the world had to offer," Xander admitted, "But, at least it can be said that the system works as is intended. People earn their worth or die, that much is true for aristocrats and for commoners; hell, one of our top generals was born an orphan, and was illiterate for most of his life! You can't say the same about Demacia, unless you mean to say the Demacian justice you fought for does, in fact, include the wholesale genocide of the magically inclined."

If Garret's glare intensified any further, Xander feared the mage's eyes would burst from the pressure. Instead of that, however, the swordsman unsheathed his sword and quickly put it to Xander's throat. Yin was immediately on alert, but Xander gestured with a free arm for her to stand down. Their's other captors seemed shocked by their leader's rash choice, but before they could say a word, Garret addressed Xander.

"You must not care for your life if you would insult my fallen friends so."

"I did not intend to insult them, only raise a point," Xander paused, "None of the systems we serve are perfect. I've gone against the wishes of my superiors in Noxus, and in doing so improved that system. I'm back here with the hope to do the same. To help the nation where I was born. But if you think what I'm doing isn't right… well, go on then. I'm at your mercy aren't I?"

The other captors seemed to disagree, at least somewhat.

"Garret, don't," the crossbow woman said.

"Why not?"

"He's at our mercy… killing him that way isn't right. If he deserves it, we'll make him confess."

"Was that not one we just heard?"

"Garret," the crossbow woman sighed, "We can make him confess in front of everyone. Don't do this."

Garret held his glare for a bit longer, then sheathed his blade with a growl. Yin sighed with relief behind Xander. Or was it disappointment? She hadn't exactly been getting much combat action recently.

"I should kill you," Garret spat at Xander, "But… she's right. It isn't Demacian."

"…No, it isn't. And, it would've made you feel miserable," Xander assumed, but spoke with level tone, "You strike me as a good person; you don't want to fight, or kill. But, you do what you must."

"I don't trust you."

"Then don't; you are free to," Xander sighed, both in disappointment and relief, than continued, "I am doing what I believe is right. All people do."

"And if what I believe is right is not to follow you?"

"Then don't; I won't ask you to," Xander smiled, "As I said, alliance is likely off the table, so I won't expect it. I'm here to say what I believe is right, and after that we'll go our separate ways. I fight my fight, you fight yours… whatever that is; let me add that I hope you all tell me why you split from Sylas in the first place."

That got a few chuckles from the other captors. Garret simply nodded. After a pause, the swordsman continued his march, brushing away a few ferns and branches. Another poke from the spearman prompted more chuckles, then Xander and the others followed.

"So, you're really not expecting us to team up?" One of the captors asked; the one with the bow, "I would've thought you would."

Xander squinted, but it was Yin who spoke, "Are you always this curious? Cos just as a warning; one day you may ask a question you don't want an answer to."

Garret gave a grunt, and Xander half thought the swordsman would snap again. He didn't.

"I have to agree with the Noxian, Trish. Just be quiet, we're almost there," Garret paused, "But, if it's a short answer, go on, Noxian."

As Trish giggled at her leader's surrender, Xander's mind wandered to Earth.

_Trish? If her last name is Una then replace my drinks with piss…_

"Well, as Xan said, it was the original plan before he… mismanaged his information, shall we say," Yin said, "Now all he can do is say my piece and hope not to get killed. I doubt mister Garret is the only one of your rebels to have been wronged by Noxus."

"You'd be correct in that regard," Garret said, pushing away another sapling, "You won't speak?"

"I'll try not to; Xan thinks I'd ruin his arguments."

"Well, I can barely stomach your excuses, Noxian; it's a good move," Garret paused, then glanced at Xander, "I hope you've figured your response for those men, because we're here."

As the shrub gave way to Garret's pull, light peaked through. Through the verdant flora, Xander could glimpse a structure surrounded by fires. As he was guided, the vision became clearer. It was hardly the most impressive sight he'd seen; the capital's ivory towers surpassed it in splendour, the oasis of the Shuriman territories were more lively, and the Immortal Bastion was more robust and packed. But, he'd give Aislynn's rebels this; for their circumstances, they had made a remarkable home.

It occured to Xander that, by some miracle, Aislynn's rebels had found a hollow hill of sorts. Or, more accurately, someone had, and the rebels had moved in. At the center of the hollow space was a old three-story home, made of a mishmash of fresh and faded planks. Its front porch held a campfire on one side, by which a pig seemed to be roasting. Where they got it was a mystery to Xander, but at least he knew what the cuisine would be like if he did end up allying with them. Opposite the campfire was a tall oak surrounded by wood-woven seats. At the tree's base was a small podium, and before that was an empty space; it was clear this home was repurposed to be the central hub of the encampment.

And as for the encampment itself… It held the appearance of a small town, perhaps at most as big as Meltridge. The central area near the house was a garden village. Rows of army-style tents - no doubt stolen from the Demacian military - and wood-woven huts framed paths beaten by footsteps. Trees seemingly meant for decoration hid small rooms in their shrubbery; Xander reckoned they were watchtowers for defence. Opposite the village proper was a large field of farmland. Xander recognised wheat as the predominant plant, but a few stalks of other vegetables and fruits were there. The farmland was separated from the residential sector by a river which led… somewhere. The river reached into the edges of the cave system, from which smoke rose. No doubt they were being used for the rebels' metal works. All in all, it was the perfect hideout for a rebellion.

_And Aislynn leads all of this. All of_ them _. Well, if I wasn't impressed before…_

It seemed Xander had spent too long gawking. Eyes started trailing to him, and his captors started waving people over. A final poke to his back forced him along.

"Impressed, or intimidated?" The spearman behind him asked.

"In truth, both," Xander admitted as he walked down a beaten path, "I don't suppose I'll get to use that podium over there, will I?"

"Do you want it?"

"It would help…" a thought occured to Xander, "Say, where's Aislynn? Shouldn't she be introducing me?"

"...You're not wrong," Garret slowly muttered, "Trish, you're in charge. I'll get Misty and Aislynn. Manda, Anders, stay alert."

They quickly went off, leaving Xander and Yin with Trish the bow-woman, the spearman, the crossbow-woman, and his thoughts on his contact's absence.

"Well, that's suspicious," Yin whispered as she walked, "Also, which one of you is Manda, and which one of you's Anders?"

"Can I guess?" Xande asked, "Manda's the woman, short for Amanda. Anders' the guy, short for Anderson."

The crossbow-woman blinked, then shook his head with a chuckle, "If you don't die, I'll tell you later."

In any case, tit he spearman guided the both up the podium's stairs. As he reached the top, Xander was snapped out of his reflections by the volume of the voices before him. He wasn't sure if it was the whole camp before him, but he wouldn't have been surprised.

_…Aaaand they're all looking at me. It's fine, it's fine; I've spent the whole morning thinking what to say and… what can they do? It seems most of them have decided to honour my 'guest rights'. Yin should be able to get to Nocturne, no matter who's in the way… And even if they tried to go Frey on my ass, they have a spearman. That's a walking armory for me, thanks, appreciated… and from there, an unspeakable horror, most likely, to get out. Anyway, so, I guess I begin?_

Xander glanced behind him to find his escorts with disconcerted gazes. The spearman at least shrugged, and Xander took it as his queue.

"Alright…" he turned to face the crowd, and gave as an amiable a smile, "I imagine all of you have plenty of… concerns. I'll try to clear them all up; so, uh, you know, you don't all kill me, heh…"

An older man at the back of the crowd called out, "Well how do we know you won't try kill all of us?"

_Ah, fuck... well, I'm already a broken record anyway..._

"That would be the last thing I'd want to do, sir," Xander replied, "But, where are my manners. For those not in the know, I am Xander; Xander Ren of Noxus. I was born here in Demacia, and lived here until the Argent Campaigns, where I was captured by Noxus; I joined thereafter, and I'll be happy to give more details as we continue. I know you all have questions, and I am here to answer them; not to bribe you or blackmail you into a one-sided alliance. You may ask, and I will answer. Only, one at a time; mage I may be, my ears aren't magical, you know?

Whilst he didn't hear any chuckles, Xander's magic caught a tinge of softening at his attempt at a joke. At least, he hoped that was what he caught; it was way to early to start hallucinating.

"So, who'd like to start?"

* * *

Watching Xander perform his press conference from afar, Aislynn felt calm nothingness. Or rather, she would've if she didn't know the source of her apathy. Despite being held by a petricite chain they'd stolen from the Mageseekers, Nocturne was apparently still able to sap away her fears. The rational part of her mind logged it as, at the very least, suspicious. Those fears were compounded by the demon's not-a-threat that Xander would free him by any means if necessary. But of course, the fears she held were what she hoped wouldn't spread, and why she was escorting the demon out of its cell in the first place.

"I thought your boss was a spy," Aislynn muttered.

"Only for the past year, and in truth, not a good one," Nocturne replied, "Xander was known for three things; martial skill, uncommon magic, and Demacian heart. The former and latter carried him in Noxus; even with Noxian culture many felt indebted to him for his service. His magic was the only reason the aristocrats of Noxus looked to him, and he was only useful to them as a weapon for one faction or another."

Aislynn squinted, "If he's only good as a weapon, why did they trust him with such a massive undertaking as a Demacian campaign?"

"He was being wielded by the two main political leaders of Noxus against each other. If there's one thing my summoner and I share, it is an aptitude to learn," Nocturne gave a short chuckle, "And, when they get Xander, they get me. We demons can be most useful, as I'm sure you've realised."

"Well, not quite. Only heard…"

As the pair continued down the path to the central village, Aislynn listened for her people's reactions. She idly reflected with relief that Xander had to be doing a decent job. If he hadn't, she no doubt would've heard cries of indignation and rage. Instead, whispers and mutterings echoed alongside the relatively clear speaking of Xander, his subordinate, and whoever was asking a question. Of course, bursts of anger occasionally came about at some comment Xander or his subordinate made. From what she could hear from afar, the first burst came when Xander admitted he had helped conquer a nation in the name of the Noxian Empire. When questioned for his honour at the concept of butchering noble freemen, Xander had turned the tide by ranting on about how the freemen of the Shuriman city of Helota were slavers. When Xander refused to apologise for butchering such men, nobody demanded it of him.

Three more outrages came after that, according to what Laura had told Aislynn before she finally brought Nocturne out of his cell. The one after Xander's... military career involved the existence of Noxian spies in the nobility. Xander gave only a few names, and the hungry crowd disliked the absence of answers. The next two concerned Demacian-Noxian conflicts: the recent Noxian attack at Nockmirch - Xander claimed ignoranc and assumed the operatives there to be running on old orders - and the Argent Mountain campaign. Whilst Xander was able to deflect blame from his superiors in lieu of them being defensive for once, when he revealed one of his subordinates had participated in the fight voices were raised once more. Only a flimsy defence could be raised, about orders and the judges - most of whom were ex-soldiers - being hypocrites. The conflict was defused, but tension remained in the background.

As they neared the center, Aislynn heard clearer the words of Noxus' Left Hand.

"…Arrogance," Xander was speaking of, "Arrogance that the Noxian way is the only way men can live on Runeterra. I see no reason for a global unity between peoples without the destruction of sovereignties."

The claim of peace caught some men's attention. Others noted diction choice in Xander's speech and raised hands. Xander picked the next one and listened.

"You don't believe the Noxian way is the only way," as it turns out, the man was Cyrus. The closest thing they had to a tactician was attentive to detail and a believer in Demacian virtue, so it wasn't a surprise when he asked, "Do you believe the Noxian way is a better way?"

Xander, the arrogant shit, laughed, "A loaded question if there ever was one. But to answer your question… shit, I don't really know."

Murmurs rose, and Aislynn could barely make out Xander's subordinate blinking in shock behind him. Xander was quick to elaborate.

"Look, look, guys, here's my problem: I've seen and appreciated the best of both and the worst of both. I will say this: the Noxian way is far easier to change. People are cold and opportunistic in Noxus, but wouldn't you know it: being nice to people for once gives you a lot of opportunities! "

"As compared to Demacia?" Someone in the crowd asked.

"If this were Noxus, I'd have focused more on you guys. Even if the aristocracy has its shadow play, they still have to manoeuvre the public opinion. Because this is Demacia, I had to go to the Capital," Xander sighed, "Alright, now that I've mentioned it, here's part two of my plan. Whilst y'all would've built up a reputation for the people, I would, or rather will, be eroding those nobles' faith in their system. I, who am a traitor and of Noxus, who has a demon at his beck and call, slew not a single man that night at the Capitol. Not that they'd say of course, they want to keep an image. But they know that I'd committed no truly heinous act. I started making my point last week, and in time I'll be proving to Prince Jarvan and his betrothed that the system they support is wrong, and needs change. And ideally, y'all would've prepared the rest of the country for that admission of… fault."

As he ended his speech, Xander noticed Aislynn approaching. Or, perhaps, if his smile was anything to go by, he'd noticed the demon behind her. The Noxian didn't regard the gasps of fear that came from the crowd as he addressed her.

"Speaking of my demon… Good to see you too, Aislynn, and thanks for bringing my friend over. But I can't help but notice his chains…"

"For security purposes, I'm sure you understand," Aislynn replied, "I understand you want him back."

"Name your price, and I'll take him," Xander spoke; the anyway added at the end was conveyed in his eyes to her, but he wisely didn't mention it.

"You can control him to not kill us all?" Aislynn asked, already aware of the answer.

Xander didn't follow her plan, clearly, but he replied, "I don't really control him, but I've told him not to. He hasn't done anything terrible under your care, has he?"

The crowd murmured once more. Aislynn's capture of Nocturne had gone off without a hitch. Once news from the capital had arrived of the demon-possessed assassin, Aislynn knew Nocturne would try regain contact. A short meeting between their fighters had Aislynn be constantly under supervision until Nocturne came. When he did, the demon immediately caught on and surrendered, not having spilled a drop of blood. It was the fact kept in the back of everyone's heads; for all their fear of the Noxian and his demon, they hadn't struck them once, and seemed willing to surrender to them.

"Nocturne's been peaceful," Aislynn replied, "If he remains so, then we can return him."

Nocturne growled with irritation, "Do not speak of me as though I were a prized toy…"

And of course, Xander laughed, "A play for the crowd. Now, come here!"

Nocturne floated a foot closer, then glanced at his cuffs, then returned to Aislynn's side to whisper in her ear.

"I could break these, but…"

_It would be a terrifying image. Right…_

From the purse she kept on her person, Aislynn first retrieved a leather glove, then the key for Nocturne's cuffs. Also made of petricite, the key hurt to hold, even with the gloves. Aislynn could only imagine the pain Sylas had felt all those years, with his shackles that covered his whole forearms. As a being of presumably pure magic, Nocturne no doubt hurt more. Whilst the demon remained stoic about the situation, Aislynn was quick to release him.

As the shackles hit the floor, the air grew tense yet clear. Nocturne breathed in, and Aislynn felt herself calm; Nocturne was feeding on fear, clearly. After a brief moment and a warning call from Xander (likely getting him to stop), Nocturne turned and slowly floated to his summoner.

The shade floated into his summoner's body, bonding with him in a smoky swirl of shadow. When the black mist cleared, Xander remained standing, hands stretched on either side and a pleased smile on his face and eyes pitch black with decidedly dark magic. Xander's escorts raised their weapons, and some of the fire mages in the crowd channeled their magic to their hands.

Aislynn simply gulped at the sight and declared, "It's done."

"Indeed, thanks for getting to at out of the way," Xander sighed then chuckled, "Would've sucked to have to fight for him. This makes things a lot more convenient..."

Xander brushed a hand to the side, and to the surprise of the crowd, the black in his eyes gave way to glowing indigo and natural white sclera. Nocturne reappeared at his side, his umbral blades bared at any would be attackers. Xander's subordinate took similar stance to her boss' side, eyes glowing red in preparation to use... some sort of magic; Aislynn didn't know.

"Now, I know I look and sound evil, but there's nothing to fear," Xander continued, "The last thing I'd want to do is to piss y'all off, never mind killing you. Of course, that former one is unfortunately easy to do... so I'll leave now."

That snapped Aislynn out of her paranoid thoughts. After a brief sputtering episode, she marched closer to the podium. As the crowd split before her, she addressed Xander.

"You're just going to leave?" She questioned, "You haven't convinced-"

"Convinced you yet? Or your people? It was rather unrealistic to begin with," Xander sighed, "When I realized you'd separated from Sylas, I suspected it was because you disagreed with his bloodlust. And as I've watched your crowd, it's clear your people don't want to fight. You... that's why this sector of Demacia's been so peaceful, isn't it? Your sect hasn't fought since the split, has it?"

Xander seemed to - correctly, Aislynn noted - take the silence as affirmation. He chuckled again.

"You have honest Demacians here, Aislynn; good, virtuous men and women," Xander continued, "Unfortunately, they'd be the last people to trust a Noxian. Excluding an Ionian, of course, but..."

As Xander spoke, Nocturne and his subordinate slowly lowered their arms. As Nocturne did, the fearful in the crowd followed, their flames and floating elements fading or falling.

Aislynn took the opportunity to glance around the crowd. As expected, a variety of reactions were on display. Some of the children looked to Xander with wonder and curiosity, as was to be expected. Their parents held curious gazes as well, but were tempered with caution, as was to be expected. Some of the old veterans and ex-soldiers held glares at the Noxian, again to be expected. And of course, the groups interspersed; an old woman seemed to sense a regretful respect in Xander, and smiled a smile reflecting those traits, whilst a young boy, presumably orphaned by Noxians during the Argent Campaign, held a gaze more toxic than any of the older veterans did.

"I didn't need Nocturne to tell it to me, but his abilities did help confirm; at least half of you guys rightfully don't trust me," Xander said, "And I will not demand that trust of you. And I'm basically out of time... So, I will leave."

"But what about your plan?" Yin asked, "Don't you need us? Don't we need to be united to make a better Demacia?"

"I do need you. Which is why I hope to return, hopefully when your people can at least trust that I believe I'm doing the right thing, and that I'm not doing what I do for Noxus," Xander answered, "For the record, it's a state sponsored experiment, if anything, but I digress. I will return when I have your trust. As for what you want me to do to earn it, well... my demon can be in touch."

Before Aislynn could ask another question, Xander beckoned to Nocturne with a snap of his fingers. She felt a sudden void of emotion as her vision faded; no doubt Nocturne giving her - and probably the audience - one last sap of emotion to power their escape. When the darkness faded, it was though her rebels had met for a standard meeting. Then the crowd looked to each other, and mumbles of confusion and panic arose. Questions of the Noxians' location filled the air, but Aislynn knew they'd be too far away at this long.

"God damn you, Xander," The dream mage cursed, perhaps too loudly. Upon feeling her people's gazes, Aislynn brushed her feelings off and addressed them, "Everyone, return to what you were doing. If you must speak about what's happened, be calm about it; I won't have our community split itself because a Noxian was stupidly honest instead of cruel and manipulative."

As she saw heads bob in affirmation, Aislynn switched her attention to a specific set of people. She spotted her target in a few seconds; a head of curly hair that led to a thick beard.

"Ramver, how much time to you need for dinner?" Aislynn asked.

The head of the sustainers - the local farmers and cooks that kept the community fed - replied, "Give is an hour, we'll be ready to go."

_Twice usual efficiency... well, Silva's brother was ex-military and Audra's a pacifist,_ Aislynn internally sighed, _Fine, if they'll need the time to figure it out then..._

"You have it," Aislynn responded, then projected her voice to everyone else as well, "Dinner will be ready in an hour. Form your queues, be tidy, and water nothing!"

More nods and signs of affirmation rose, but unfortunately someone had to address the kaiju in the cavern.

And of course, that someone was Cyrus, "Aislynn, what'll we do about the Noxian's proposal?"

After a moment to think, the answer of a series of votes on the morrow left Aislynn's lips. Yet, as the crowd dispersed and the mumbles and arguments faded from hearing, the dream mage could only sigh and ruminate in irritation. While she couldn't criticize Xander for throwing the ball in her court - he couldn't do much else, after all - his unceremonious dumping of it on her lap... left much to be desired.

_Thomas 'Xander' Asper... do you not want us to join you? Do you want me to end your life painfully? Because both can be organized..._ Aislynn put her thoughts aside for a moment, retreating through doors and up staircases to her room to brood in peace, _If I'm able to get this done, you and I are going to have a long talk... You left me with more questions than answers, and…_

_You're asking me what I want? Well, how about a straight, no-bullshit answer to this question:_

_What is it you want?_

Perhaps the part that worried Aislynn most was the thought that Xander had been honest, and that, like much of her people, she didn't believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I'd wanted to upload this chapter earlier, namely last-last Sunday, but I wanted to finish up this arc this chapter. Not to mention I've been getting feedback, so trying to incorporate it here meant some redrafting occured. Then, I left the chapter on draft the past week. But alas, here's 10.1k of writing. 
> 
> I'll probably add more art later down the line. I've had one cooking up for the past few weeks, and, of course, I still need to include this one's.
> 
> The feedback I've gained really helped me understand where to improve. So, as always, please leave a comment; I appreciate any feedback I get for the fic. Stay safe, and see you next chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

Though an undoubtedly beautiful Demacian vista lay before her through the window, Yin couldn't shake off the heavy feeling in the air.

For the first time since she'd properly met Xander, she'd failed a mission.

That wasn't to say it was a consistently smooth ride. The rebels in the Varju Mountain campaigns were tricksters, and had forced them on the back foot many times with excellently timed ambushes. The rebels at Rokrund were even more skilled, and the lord that sponsored the whole thing was brutal, and died hard. But, they'd always gotten through. Sometimes it was Gerris' fortitude, or Erret's cunning; one time, she'd even stolen victory from defeat using her blood magic to cripple a rival basilisk. But, most of the time, Xander had been the key to their victory. In hindsight, his almost prophetic tactical choices and manipulations were clearly just abuse of dream magic and demon familiars. But, superstitious as it was to believe it, Xander seemed to bring an unnatural fortune to the table that had guaranteed their victory.

It certainly seemed that way as Yin reflected on her experiences with her boss. She'd first seen him in his premier match, where he'd pulled off an upset victory on Erret. She'd thought it a brilliant fluke then, grinning despite handing her sister money from a bet. Then, a pattern was formed when Xander and Erret defeated the Glorious Executioner himself, Draven. Granted, that was yet another case of magic abuse, but the fact that they lasted long enough and well enough for Xander's relatively weak magic to tip the scales was testament themselves.

Then came service. Finally assigned to a warband that wasn't a glorified home guard, Yin saw first hand the almost unnatural charm Xander led with. Of course, that too could be explained normally: when everyone else around is the average Noxian asshole, having someone as caring and compassionate as the Demacian import as your leader went a long way. Combined with his martial skill, Yin had decided to bet on Xander's odds when she fulfilled her mission and brought him into the belly of the beast that was the Black Rose. The fact that he lived, even after confessing to aiding Jericho Swain, was miraculous enough. The coup he played not five months later? And the ensuing Mordekaiser Crisis that came with it? If Xander could come out of those events thriving, then betting on him seemed a reasonable move.

And yet, as with all things, he wasn't perfect. But, looking to the scale of his previous trials, it was very hard to believe convincing his own people to help them would be the objective he'd fail at. She understood why; Xander was undoubtedly Noxian, and the Demacian Kingdom and Noxian Empire had been enemies since the end of the Rune Wars. And without powerful allies like Swain, Raum, Vladimir, and LeBlanc to aid him, it made sense that he wouldn't be able to pull out another miracle win.

But that didn't make it any less disappointing.

"Something bothering you?"

It seemed to Yin that wore her disappointment on her face. As if to bandage the feeling, Xander appeared to use his intellect to catch up with her thoughts. Or, it might've been his magic, but who could say?

"Ah. I see... well, sorry for fucking it up;" Xander sighed, "Can't win them all."

"I know that, I was just hoping you'd do something about..." Yin sighed herself then chuckled, "I'm just repeating myself, aren't I?"

"Yeah," Xander grinned as he answered, then frowned, "But I do get it. None of those guys compare to even just Swain... but I suppose that's the thing about it."

Yin raised an eyebrow, "Explain?"

"You've raised the point of my past accomplishments, but they're all relatively the same," Xander paused, carefully choosing his words, "It was... taming monsters. And I've gotten pretty good at it. But those people aren't monsters; in short, not my expertise."

"Your work with the warband makes me doubt that statement."

"Those people didn't have anywhere to go, and they knew it. Aislynn's crew... well, their little sanctuary might suffice if they keep a tight enough lid on it..." Xander shook his head, "I digress. We had to cut our losses. And it's not like it was a total failure."

"How's that? If they believe we're so terrible, how do we know they won't make the stupid decision to tattle on us?"

"Because at the very least Aislynn won't want to, and she's their leader. And from what Nocturne gathered, the main heads are largely in agreement. We won't be getting backstabbed. And even if someone did... that's why Nocturne's not here."

"But Nocturne won't kill them, I presume?"

"Of course not. I'll let them judge their own by their laws..." a grin formed on Xander's face, "That statement actually summarizes the plan quite nicely. Ball's in their court. Nocturne keeps it there until they get the slam dunk we're hoping for."

"...Slam dunk?"

"Right, haven't explained basketball yet, but I digress," Xander sighed, "Point is, we shouldn't have to worry about them going forward. This operation ain't done yet; there's still time for them to join."

"I suppose so..." Yin nodded, paused, then caught the signs of a smirk growing on Xander's face, "But, we won't be waiting on our asses till then. You have plans?"

"Of course. I was planning on keeping quiet about them til we met with Erret and Gerris, but we do still have a few hours to go. So, if you don't mind, I could run them by you?"

Yin closed her eyes with a tired chuckle. The sight outside her window seemed that much more appealing. Xander caught her on her escape, however.

"One fail and I'm suddenly a problem child? Come on, Yin, you know you want to be productive."

"Productivity or no, every discussion we've had in the pass month has inevitably led to a headache of some type, some time after," Yin sighed, "But, it isn't like we have many other options."

"If only those patriotic rebels had your intellect," Xander wished aloud.

"If only you weren't such an annoying ass," Yin shot back, "Now, get on with it; lets see if I can lessen Erret and Gerris' headaches a bit…"

* * *

"We'll reconvene after lunch. Two hours, meet at town center."

That was the order Aislynn had given to her men twenty minutes. She'd finished her meal in ten, and hoped her migraine would've faded along with it. It didn't, and if not for the fact her dreams were no longer safe haven thanks to a particular someone potentially make her life worse in them, she would've had a nap. That only worsened her head ache, but she imagined Xander's babbling would only make it worse.

Thankfully, she wasn't alone in her plight.

Whilst Laura, ever attentive, caught on to her exhaustion and fetched a cup of tea, her brother filled the air with his own brand of magic. Of course, there was actually nothing magical about Cheston's music, but he was skilled at plucking the right strings and hitting the right notes; that was all Aislynn wanted of him. But, more appreciated than the sounds Cheston made was the silence Cyrus gave. Not necessarily because Aislynn disagreed with him; he'd come to the same conclusion she'd had over night. But, he had the tendency to be the bearer of bad news.

He certainly had the bearings of it. Scarred, stubbled, and with eyes of iron, he was the closest thing to a general the rebellion had. He wasn't as strong as the famed Garen Crownguard, nor as tactically brilliant as the High Marshall, Tianna Crownguard. But, he was cautious and decisive. His control over his elemental magic was testament to it; he often channeled flames to his palm, letting it grow steadily, yet never losing control and causing a blaze. That was a major fear, to be sure. Yet, if he was ever so slightly less paranoid, Aislynn was sure the singers would have horror stories of Cyrus and his fiery blade. She knew he wanted action, but was fearful of the consequences. It was the smart play, yet the back of her mind itched with the need to make a gamble.. But for now, she was just glad to have his prudent wisdom, and his recognition that she wanted a break.

Unfortunately, his bolder second-in-command held no such hesitation.

Still clad in his patrol gear, Garret walked through the door.

"Aisynn, sir; the south patrol found our missing men. They were trying to get to town to report on the Noxians," he reported, a troubled frown on his face.

Cyrus kept his voice level as he asked, "What'd you do with them?"

"Put them in the brig. Misty made sure nobody noticed."

After taking a sip from her tea and sighing, Aislynn spoke, "Good catch. I'll talk to them later."

Unfortunately, Garret wasn't finished, "Ma'am, when will that be?"

Aislynn shrugged, "When the choice has been made."

Garret glanced to Cyrus, but before either of them could add, Aislynn continued.

"...Which could be some time away; Laura, could you bring them some lunch?"

The nature mage nodded, and left without a word. With her serene presence gone, Aislynn felt the room stiffen into a business mood. She sighed, leaning into her wooden chair for what little comfort it could give.

"Thanks for your report," the dream mage started, before glancing to Cyrus, "Guess we ought to rush?"

"Well, we don't really have anywhere to start," the ex-soldier replied, "You said we had a few hours; might as well use them."

Garret stepped to the table, "How's it been so far?"

"Well, some people still think we should tell the loyalists about it," Cyrus grumbled, "That my telling them tattling will get us all killed has done so little... idiots."

"They're emotionally invested," Cheston noted, laying down his violin, "Most people here don't trust Noxus. The rest have good reason to hate them."

"I'm aware of that, but I'm also aware that if we're going to change Demacia, we'll need the Noxians' help," Cyrus countered, before sending a seemingly pained glance to Aislynn, "I know safety's the priority, but the men are getting antsy. Running decoy patrols won't work forever, and whilst we have a good thing going on here, unless something changes it won't be sustainable."

"If you want to fight, you should've stayed with Sylas."

All the heads in the room turned as the door opened. The flames in Cyrus' hands flared up for a moment before their master forced them down. The heat instead grew in the flame mage's eyes, as he eyed their intruder with wary anger. Said intruder continued, despite the incredulous looks sent his way.

"But let me remind you that we left Sylas because we didn't see the point of his warmongering," snarled Silva, the second-in-command for the sustainers, "So why the hell are we giving the Noxians time of day? We should, at the very least, have moved on from this decision by now."

"We left Sylas because he was a vengeful fool," Cyrus corrected, "Killing nobles without mercy does nothing to further the cause. But, we still agreed there was a cause worth fighting for."

"Perhaps, but at least Sylas is Demacian."

"Xander was, once-"

"Then he's a traitor now, at best; he could be lying. Aislynn, surely-"

"I have considered it, but if he was going to fess up about being Noxian, there'd be no need to lie about once being Demacian," Aislynn answered, "As you say, he's a traitor. That's worse than him just being Noxian."

"And you still trust him?" Silva squinted accusingly, "What did he tell you?"

"Nothing; he showed me-" Aislynn pinched the bridge of her nose as her headache rose up once again, "He's a dream mage like me; it's how he first caught on to me. I saw his memories; he's from Demacia, same as us."

Silva paused at the statement, and for a moment Aislynn hoped he'd seen the light. That hope faded as the bearded man frowned, a bitter pain in his eyes.

"He says he is Demacian, but he is of Noxus just the same," Silva said, "Perhaps once he was a good man, but... I've heard the stories of Noxus. A place where only the cruel survive. Assuming you haven't been tricked by an illusionist with a false name... Xander Ren is not to be trusted, and the men he brought with him even less so."

"Perhaps you're right," Cyrus admitted, "But we do need his help."

"Soldiers are being sent to occupy Meltridge. They were growing before Xander's attack at the capital," Garret elaborated, "There's sure to be an increase of men there and at the border to guard for Noxians. But, they'll be looking for mages too.

"We're getting surrounded," Cyrus summarised, "And it's only a matter of time before someone finds us and lives to tell the tale. Then we're screwed."

"So we actually throw ourselves to the Noxians?" Silva's voice raised again, "They have their own agenda here; they'll kill us all if it'll help their finish mission."

"Then we ensure that they need us," Cyrus replied, "As long as we're useful-"

"And what will we need to do to prove that? Xander confessed that one of his men fought in the Argent Campaign. Someone with Demacian blood on his hands."

"I have Demacian blood on my hands," Cyrus countered, "I've had to kill three men since we settled down here; to keep us safe. I don't like it, but I do what I must to keep us safe. I know you don't like the Noxians, but I'm telling you: if we strive to do more than die in this hole, this might be our only chance to get some momentum."

Silva glanced to Aislynn, a pleasing look in his eyes. She could only sigh regretfully.

"We've got a good thing going here. We can feed ourselves, quench our thirsts... but we can't defend ourselves forever. The Noxians can; even if only by distracting the loyalists for us elsewhere. They'd do it anyway, but if we can directly coordinate with them we could position ourselves out of harm's way just a little longer…" Aislynn frowned as she glanced at Silva; he was clearly not impressed, "I know you don't agree, but… well, I suppose doesn't matter what I think. Or what you think."

"It does, more than you know," Silva said after a pause, displeased, "I understand that you think this is for the best, but that's all I can do. Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope this next vote doesn't go your way."

"I share the sentiment. And for what it's worth… I'm sorry I had to disagree on this."

Silva maintained the slight disdain in his gaze, "Me as well… I'll see you on the next vote."

After a pause and a respectful nod, the sustainer left the room. After another pause, Aislynn and Cyrus let a sigh of… whatever it was, it was something they hadn't realised they were holding. Another pause after that, and Aislynn stood from her chair. Yet, as she walked away from the table, she turned her gaze to Cyrus and met his eyes. The ex-soldier sent her a glance that demanded an answer for her leave.

"That'll be everyone out there, huh?" Aislynn asked.

"Looks like it," he said, "What should I do?"

"Can we really do anything? We're not politicians; we're not manipulative; not enough, anyway," Aislynn chuckled bitterly, "If the cunning Noxians couldn't, I doubt we'd do any better."

"So what're you going to do?"

"Pray the Noxians don't meet me in my dreams," Aislynn rose up a couple stairs before turning for her final remark, "Try convincing people, or don't; doesn't matter. Just wake me before the voting starts."

"Of course… hope you can get a clear head with that nap. I'd hope at least one of us gets one."

Aislynn held that wish as she rose to her room and took to bed. She willed herself to have a peaceful, dreamless rest. For a moment, as darkness persisted instead of shifting to a scene, she believed she'd gotten there. Alas, she realised she was thinking, and saw familiar white dagger-like eyes in the dark. All without petricite by her bedside…

Laura found her very much awake an hour later, brooding with bags under her eyes and a concerned look on her face.

* * *

The return dinner was a tense affair for Xander.

Whilst he'd come out of their carriage confident, and with his plans refined by Yin's aid. Internally that was shaken when Gerris and Erret spotted him. It crumbled completely when the latter asked how the trip went. He'd hesitated too long, and by the time he opened his mouth, the honest answer of "Not as I'd hoped" was the only thing that could leave his mouth.

They ate swiftly there after. Xander had managed to change the suspect during the meal, and was pleased to discover the progress the Sharpstem garrison had reached. It was hardly enough for the worst case scenario, but hearing that they were progressing faster than usual was music to Xander's ears. But alas, dinner held a single course meal that night, and soon, the Noxian party retired to Lady Elia's office to discuss more sensitive topics. That to lead Xander coming clean, and, as a result, being met with Gerris' murder-face.

"...I'd understand your open nature if they'd actually agreed to an alliance," the ex-reckoner's voice rose in anger as he spoke, "But that you told them everything even now... what in all the hells of the world are you thinking?!"

"We're in this fight together whether they like it or not," though he showed defiance with his expression, Xander mumbled his answer. He elaborated with a harder voice, "They won't stab us in the back; they're Demacian and we're Noxian."

"Meaning?"

"That even if they dared fall to our level, we'd slit their throats the second after they stab us," Xander replied, "And for all they know we'd limp out of it with little but a scar for our troubles. So they won't risk it."

"So it's a gamble," Gerris concluded, facepalming with a grumble, "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt that their leaders will recognize that. But what's stopping some idiot fr-"

"Nocturne's there for that," Yin stepped in, "It's hard to support it, but even our leader's brain farts have precautions. Hardly ideal, but considering that Xander's moral high ground plan needs the people - mostly mages - to do the crown's job..."

"Necessary risks," Erret simplified, "Well, not much to do about it now; die's cast, and all."

"…Thanks for the vote of confidence," Xander said.

Erret rolled his eyes, "Yin hasn't juiced you yet. Until then you have my support."

Xander shrugged with a smile. Gerris didn't return it, but gave a respectful nod. The Left Hand of Noxus took that as confirmation that they were in agreement, and turned his attention to their host. Miss de Recht already had a smirk on face; a bad sign, and something too similar to her boss' looks of superiority for Xander to stomach easily.

"Lady Elia, I don't suppose you can forgo telling LeBlanc about this, can you?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm afraid not," The matron of Sharpstem chuckled, "But, I will list that the rebel sect under Aislynn is… compromised for our purposes. I'm sure LeBlanc will understand."

Xander grimaced, "She'll understand that she can word that report in a way to get Swain on my ass."

"Then you'll have to spare a few days out of your demon's patrol of the rebel camp. Unless the Grand General is sleepless, in which case, tough luck," Elia's suggestion came with a shrug, "I am still loyal to the Black Rose, I'm afraid..."

The Left Hand frowned for a moment, then shrugged, "... well, I needed some accountability... And it would be most suspicious for you to suddenly pass away in your sleep with a demon of the night at large."

Xander held back a smile of satisfaction when his magic felt Elia's anxiety flare up. He instead though, asked a question.

"I don't suppose could you delay your report?"

Elia cleared her throat of its fears, "W-Well, other than securing my survival, which I've already done... What do I gain from it?"

_Still playing the game? Damned Black Rose habits, I suppose..._

"It's highly likely House Sharpstem will be exposed during this grand campaign," Xander started after a pensive pause, "Should you survive till that point, I can allow you into our service. Our war band is lauded for its administrative branch, and you would be most welcome there."

Elia squinted with amused suspicion, "And that benefits me how?"

"Not as fancy as a noble title, I admit, but working with us would probably be better than being ambassador to a country that recently discovered you were a traitor," Xander listed, "And where I have childhood ties to the Prince, you're working for possibly the worst person in Noxus, especially in terms of public relations. Might want to leave that ambassadorial stuff to me."

Of course, Gerris got concerned again.

"Wait. Was that your whole plan, once this is over? Become an ambassador, live far from service?"

"No, Gerris, just a sudden thought," Xander replied, restraining his eyes from rolling, "I mean, who else in Noxus could be an ambassador? Most of us think Demacians are stupid and naive, and don't deviate from the stereotype. I mean, could you see... I dunno, Tal- oh wait. The Coteaus..."

"Coteau-"

"Sudden thought, don't mind it," Xander shook it off and was ready to continue productivity until he glance at Elia, who looked far too pleased, "... you know something, Miss de Recht?"

"Well, you do," came the amused reply.

Xander nodded with a smile, "Indeed. You're telling me everything after this meeting."

"That can be arranged... and, you'd be friend of the King, actually," Elia noted after a pause, "I forgot to mention: messages from the capitol came in whilst you were away. Young Jarvan IV has ascended to the throne to properly help his nation combat the evils without and within it."

Xander blinked, surprised, before his pleasant smile returned, "Ah, Jarv's done it? Such a shame that Nocturne's needed elsew-"

The Left Hand paused abruptly, then his smile widened, "Well, I'll see about that later. But anyway, so the new king's taken a hard stance against his enemies?"

"Yes, and the move, most assume, is to rally the country together for it," Elia listed, "No response from Sylas' rebels has yet been made, but with their own propaganda campaign in place I imagine public reception will be as affirming as the loyalists wish."

"Indeed, but it will hardly be enough for the rebels either…" Xander paused pensively, "But thanks for leading me to my next point…"

"That being?"  
"What our plans are going forward, of course," Xander replied.

After a pause, Gerris sighed, and mused, "Oh boy, how are you going to decrease my lifespan this time?"

_Wow, really? Am I that bad?_

The Left Hand made to continue, but Yin stepped in, "I've already helped refine the boss' ideas, but perhaps it'd be more palatable when I say it?"

Gerris shrugged, ignoring Xander's mock offence, "Go ahead."

Yin opened her mouth, gave a hesitant chuckle, then finally spoke.

"Despite failing to get Aislynn's rebels on board..." Yin paused to contain an amusement which, to Xander, had no apparent source, "Xander wants to find and meet Sylas and approach him for treaty."

A moment of silence followed, as the Noxian party digested Yin's words. Gerris glanced at Lady Elia, who seemed to share an opinion. Before they could explode in Xander's face, however, Erret asked the first question. Thankfully, it was one of those Xander was looking for.

"Why do you think this will work?" The saboteur asked.

"It's a matter of wants," Xander elaborated, "Aislynn's rebels are idealists like me, and they find my Noxian ties and Sylas' violence abhorrent for the same reason; those concepts fall short of their ethics. Whilst they agree the current Demacian order is corrupt, and needs reworking, they'd rather not get their hands dirty for it. No murders without bureaucracy and protocol, I suppose."

"So we're both willing to do the dirty work," Gerris summarized, "Why would that make Sylas trust us?"

"It won't. As far as he's concerned, Noxian and Demacian aristocracy - and their servants - are all just swine," Xander admitted, "But, his attitude there infers our solution. He may believe in the just cause of his revolution, but he's most happy simply being its mad dog. Killing those he perceives has wronged him, letting others revel in the joys of revenge. That is who Sylas is currently, and whilst we'll be trying to fix that as the revolution goes on, for now it's our flaw to abuse."

"So... your plan is to point the finger at the crown and say 'them first' to Sylas," Erret assumed.

Xander nodded, "Exactly that."

"Figured..." Erret sighed, "Alright, let's say that works. How will you deal with the men in his sect who don't want you there? You nearly got Aislynn to trust you, but that didn't matter."

"That's because the people in her group are more individualist, and from what Nocturne grasped, their society more democratic," the Left Hand explained, "From what that group has to say, one point of contention they had with the original is that Sylas had too much influence; he could claim equality all he wanted, but it was undercut by the cult of personality people were forming about him. The Liberator, the Unschackled, so on so forth. In short, as long as we convince Sylas, we win."

"And how do we do that when those people are telling him not to trust us?" Erret rebutted.

"Well, they won't be there. According to our... intel..." Xander glanced at Lady Elia as he sidestepped having to explain to her his origins, "... Sylas should be completely isolated from the rest of the rebels. To be specific, he's actually up North, in the Freljord, looking for magic to steal and use for his war against the crown."

"Is there anything in the Freljord worth worrying about?" Gerris asked, arms crossed with a concerned face.

"Nothing quick and easy, to be sure. There may be some secret ancient order similar to the Black Rose there, but Sylas won't accept their help, what with being an extreme libertine," Xander assured, "If there is something that could turn him into a major threat, it'd kill him first, and all we'd need to do is give him a proper burial and go home."

Gerris gave Xander a deadpan look, "… alright, but could you give specifics?"

"Void threats are present there, but the secret ice mage order guards them; I forget their names. They're lead by one of the founding sisters of the Freljord, Lissandra, if that means anything to you. But again, even if Sylas could contact them - they're in the far North - neither party would be content. Lissandra would want servitude, Sylas wouldn't bite. And of course, the Void would just eat him," Xander elaborated, "There also may be demigods of sorts around, but they're like the Void; more likely to eat Sylas than join him."

"… there are demigods in the Freljord?"

"Thankfully they keep to themselves, or the Noxian assault surely would've been stopped in its tracks," Xander shook his head, "Anyways, back to the plan. We intercept Sylas in the Freljord, before he rejoins with his men; explain him things according to our view. From there, we hopefully convince his entire sect to our side, then get to work. We may have to convince some Freljordians that we're trustworthy, but honestly Sylas' violent wishes should win us the day."

"Yeah, easy," the sarcasm dripped off of Erret's voice, "Though, I have to ask, what happens if we can't convince Sylas to join us? If those Freljordians get the better of him?"

Xander paused and frowned lightly before replying, "It would be most unfortunate if the figurehead of the rebellion were to perish without doing anything useful. But, if the frozen wastes must take him…"

Erret nodded with a content smirk, "And the Left Hand returns. Alright, no more bullshit…"

Gerris nodded as well, "There are risks, but if your intel is right, this'll probably be our best chance at getting to him."

"Glad we're in agreement," His team's concerns seemingly solved, Xander glanced to their host, "Now, we will be needing some excuse for it. I wouldn't mind faking my death or something, but for ease of operations, do we have any assets up north?"

"We do, but its hardly notable," Elia replied, "My father helped fund a mining company based in High Silvermere before taking the lordship; the Coldstone Company. They're relatively small, with most of the company men working in various mines around the mountain. Some near Uwendale, some near Silvermere..."

"Silvermere... if the Crownguards go for a family visit in this time, I'll eat my own foot," Xander grumbled, "But it's not as though I have no experience hiding under Crownguard influence."

After a short chuckle, Gerris continued the planning, "So, you and Yin going again, or are we switching it up?"

Xander glanced to Yin, prompting her to speak, "I thought it best that I stay at Sharpstem. Xander's been taking care of much of the business ordeals, so it makes sense that he'd be sent to do these chores. Meanwhile, I've been more prudent during business, so Lady Elia might be expected to refine that into a more politically deductive threat. Not to mention treating with the locals..."

"I concur," Elia briefly added, "So, will Xander be sent on his own?"

"An unnecessary risk, I think," Yin turned her attention to Gerris and Erret before responding, "How's the garrison working? Specifically?"

"They're picking up combat decently well, but they aren't disciplined yet," Gerris noted, "Their formations are sloppy."

Erret sighed, "Then I'll have to go. And I was just getting to know the guys."

Xander scoffed lightly, knowing the real reason Erret was dismayed, "My apologies, then."

"Don't sweat it. Someone has to keep you alive; might as well be the guy who's basically had that job grafted to his soul," Erret joked with a light smile, "So, how do we pack?"

"Enh... as much as you can without causing a stir, I guess," Xander supposed, "There's only so much an average patrol will accept as normal. Though, I am planning on having Nocturne pick up Longinus' parts. Maybe bring along one of your swords and some knives, You'll be my bodyguard, so some weapons would be accepted... Noct can bring the other sword along with the blood bombs."

Yin raised an eyebrow, "Will I need to refill our stock?"

"I've got five; probably will pack two."

With a clearing of her throat, Lady Elia stood up from her desk.

"I trust you can plan out your mission operations on your own," she said, "Xander, speak with me by breakfast with your full plan, and I'll organise your transports. When do you plan to leave?"

"Soon as possible," Xadner glanced to Erret, "Perhaps in two, three days?"

"Two. We'll get it done ASAP," the saboteur decided.

Lady Elia nodded, said her nightly farewells, and left the office promptly. However, rather than actually continue their conversation, the Noxian party decided on silence. After a shared glance with Yin, Erret stood up as well.

"Honestly, it seems we've got it all down," he said, "You got the plan, Elia'll get the transports tomorrow... I'll just go prepare my kit..."

"I get it, you two won't be able to actually do things for a while, no thanks to me. Take the night off, on me," Xander snarked, "Oh, and actually, go pack your knives. Noct will do with the swords."

"Y-yeah. Good night."

Gerris smirked but was silent when Yin and Erret left the room, light blushes highlighting their smiling faces. As the door shut, the reckoner looked to Xander silently, an amused word clearly on the tip of his tongue.

"Well?"

Gerris whispered, "Do you know where the guest rooms are?"

"You're the one who's been staying here longer, you tell me," came the Left Hand's reply.

Gerris shook his head and chuckled lowly. Xander joined him. Rather uncharacteristic of them both, however, the laughter didn't escalate. Gerris held humour to himself and hardened; a shallow smile remained, but his eyes conveyed a more serious tone. Xander responded in kind.

"So, you think this'll work?" Gerris asked.

"Positively," Xander shrugged, "Though at the very least, we won't be praying for success when it comes around. Either we get him or he doesn't leave. But I'm confident in the former."

"Sure you are," Gerris shook his head, "Ah, well, you have your mission. Get out of it alive, and I'll be fine with it."

"Will you though? I mean, if we don't get it-"

"Then your life gets hard, and we may even go home early," Gerris said, "Either way, I'll be there to help."

"...Appreciated..." Xander replied, then chuckled, "I haven't even left and you already miss me."

Gerris scoffed, but didn't deny it, "Well, we still have time. Why don't we go find those rooms?"

Xander stood and smiled cordially, "Walk and talk?"

"Sure," Gerris returned the gesture in kind, "I do still need to regale you with tales of the Sharpstem trainees' stupidity..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the aftermath of the first capital arc largely finished, the next few chapters will be plot progression. Furthermore, if this fanfic were a TV series, we're approaching the half-way point of the first season (out of three, assuming I don't deviate from my general plan). Regardless, onto the next phase of the revolution: meeting the first revolutionary!
> 
> As always, thanks for the support thus far. Please leave a comment; I appreciate any feedback I get for the fic, as it can help me improve or show where I'm succeeding. See you next chapter.


	15. Chapter 15

_The Demacian was looking at him._

_Whether it was a glare or a glance of curiosity was unknown to Erret, but he didn't care. The Demacian was looking at him, and it pissed him off to no end. Questions and memories rose to his mind, and he felt his face burn up with embarrassment; that angered him further. As he clenched his fists, the thought to turn around and snap at the Demacian rose to his head. He ignored it; it would be a waste of his focus._

_In the dark cave they lay in, focus was a luxury._

_Trying to calm himself, Erret forced his mind away from the thought of the Demacian. It was a fruitless attempt, for his thoughts quickly moved on to his boss. Impressing the Ironhead had been a opportunity he'd never hoped of getting. When he did get it, however, he knew the stakes: win or die; the reckoner's way. Or at least, it was in the old days, before Draven's performances… or so he had heard from the Ironhead, who'd revealed he was quite the traditionalist._

So why keep him around?

_Erret's frown deepened at the question, and its associated memories. Blood and sand, blurry vision, the crowds shouting a title that wasn't his… the crushing feeling of failure. The crowds turning on the victor and said victor helping him up didn't raise his spirits; quite the opposite, in truth. He was the enemy; there was no reason to spare him. Yet, the Demacian found one somehow, and convinced the Ironhead to do the same._

_And he supposed he found a reason as well. His next fight was supposed to be his hour. A battle royale at the Noxkraya Arena; a battle royale the Glorious Executioner himself would've fought at. In hindsight it was clear his road should've ended there, with Draven cutting him down with his axe. It nearly was, even with the Demacian's help. Yet, as good as it was to survive, the victory was bitter. It wasn't his, after all. Once again, the Demacian protected him, and with dark magics grasped victory from defeat. And even then, with his energy spent and his back to him, Erret hadn't committed to his vengeance. He'd knocked the Demacian down and claimed the victory for the day, but something stayed his hand from spilling the fool's blood._

_He'd decided to call it repaying a debt, and hoped to never see the Demacian again. But of course, the Ironhead was as impressed with the Demacian as he was him, and they found themselves under his direct service. And now, here they were: under some gods-forsaken island on Bilgewater looking for potential escapees from their previous raid._

_The Demacian cleared his throat behind him, and dared to address him, "Hey, Erret, was it? Are you okay?"_

_"I'm fine," he said, under grit teeth._

_The Demacian didn't seem to care for his answer, "Are you su-"_

_"I said I'm fine," Erret insisted._

_"Alright… but if there's a problem, feel free to sa-"_

_If he wanted his fury, the Demacian would get it. Erret turned to face the Demacian._

_"What's your game?" He snapped, "What's with the questions?"_

_Something ticked at the back of Erret's head that he'd done something wrong. The Demacian was shocked at his rant for only a split second. His expression quickly chilled to a cold, analytical look. The Demacian frowned then responded evenly._

_"Because, contrary to your statements, there is something going on with you concerning me. Since I'd rather there wasn't anything of the sort, I'd like to resolve the problem. So, if you don't mind spilling?"_

_"And give you something more over me? Yeah, I mind."_

_The Demacian squinted, seemingly confused, "Who said I have something over you?"_

_Erret wouldn't buy it, "Is that it? You want me to admit it?"_

_"Admit it? Admit what…" a light of recognition appeared in the Demacian's eyes, "Ah, I se-"_

_But of course, Erret wouldn't buy it, "So you're going to play dumb with me now?"_

_"I'm not playing anything! I genuinely didn't get it a moment ago," After the outburst, the Demacian cleared his throat, his frown returning, "And for the record, you don't need to worry about blackmail, or that sort of thing."_

_"So you think I'm stupid now?" Erret crossed his arms, "I'm supposed to just believe you saved me, a rival and threat, out of pure selflessness?"_

_"… no, that would be incorrect," the Demacian sighed, disappointed, "I was hoping that it would bring some level of gratitude, from which more… diplomatic relations could be reached, rather than this spitting match. But it wasn't purely selfish; friendships do incorporate reciprocity."_

_Erret flinched in disbelief, then scoffed as the sounds caught up to his brain, "Friendship?"_

_"Yes, friendship," Erret bristled as the Demacian's tone took a tired approach, as if speaking with a child, "Alas, as I said, reciprocity; if you won't bite, then I'll have to settle with a awkward coworker. Which is a shame; if your cynicism is anything to go by, you should know how hard it is out here; a friend could be useful."_

_"Useful? Caught you slipping, idiot; I'm not being your pawn."_

_"I'm not looking for… Fine then, awkward coworker it is…" The Demacian rolled his eyes, then laid his sights on something in the distance, "Well… at least I won't be troubling you for long."_

_Erret followed the Demacian's gaze, and to his surprise, found a cosy sight. Recently furnished and oddly clean wooden planks topped by stolen furniture and carpets, an unlit fireplace, and a small dock lit by luminescent coral… They'd found their target._

_The Demacian straightened up,"Well, let's get back to the others. With more men we could flush them out faster."_

_It was a viable option, but Erret's keen eye caught something._

_"They would, but let's make sure they can do so safely," he muttered, "See that dirt mound by the office? Something's under there."_

_"Like hidden treasure? You know, the type pirates often make?"_

_"It could be explosives."_

_The Demacian scoffed, "Seriously? Explosives? Surely they'd use that gunpowder for their guns, or for the cannons on the ship they fled on?"_

_"Noxian warships are hardier than Bilgewater ones, in case you haven't noticed. They have to use speed and ambush tactics to board our ships to contend; we'd tank their shots, they'd sink to ours," Erret countered, "However, if they can lure a war band down here then blow up the cave in the right way, they could bury us all and get away with little risk to themselves, and soften Noxian crews by reducing the soldiers on nearby ships."_

_After a moment of silence, the Demacian gave a low whistle, "Shit, you're right. Well, guess we're going in. Hope you can learn to trust me quick."_

_"Will there be a problem?" Erret glared._

_The Demacian shrugged, "Nah, I'm just joking with you. Take the lead, I'll follow your plan."_

* * *

Erret was looking at him.

Whether out of boredom (their trip was long and uneventful), irritation (from being away from Yin, or perhaps the situation they were in), or something else entirely was a mystery to Xander. He probably could've figured it out magically, further scanning Erret's subconscious for themes and making an informed guess. But who was he, Swain, LeBlanc? He could be cold, but not that cold; nor would he ever be to a friend.

And this far north, being cold was the last thing he wanted.

The vague imprint of Erret's emotions that Xander felt provided some warmth in the Freljordian storm; the warmth of reassurance. That he felt anything at all was proof that Erret hadn't been taken by the storm. Even with their preparations - made with information sourced from Darius' Freljord campaigns to the east, the Freljord was a brutal place. It had been fine a few hours ago, when they and their escorts from the Coldstone Company. The sun had shone on their company, melting frost as quickly as it froze on their coats. Unfortunately, the good weather didn't last, and a storm rose. Grey mists mitigated far looks, never mind the constant stream of snowflakes sent their way by a chilling gale. If not for their preparations, Xander knew they'd have died by now. As it was, a treacherous part of his mind believed they might be headed to that fate regardless.

Glancing to Erret, the Left Hand found a determined glare.

_Ah, so its irritation._

"Erret!" Xander had to yell through the howling winds, "You good?"

Xander didn't know whether Erret was frowning through his balaclava, but his reply certainly held a cold disdain.

"I'm freezing… this is one of the worst ideas you've ever had!"

Xander rolled his eyes, "We're almost at the crevice Nocturne spotted. Just keep moving forward, and we'll rest for the night!"

Erret's reply, if there was one, was grumbled quietly; it was lost to the storm, as far as Xander was concerned. With the noises fading to meaninglessness in his mind, Xander reflected to his plan.

_So… we got through step one easy enough. Nobody found us sus_ _on our way to Coldstone. Though, Director Halm seems off… or maybe I'm just used to loyal patriots. Makes sense that someone born in Demacia but raised Noxian would feel odd about… everything._

_Step two's not too bad as is. Nocturne got a lead on his location; we at least know that we're supposed to check the Freljord. Nobody found us sus on the way to the border, and the Coldstone escort seemed understanding enough. Our supplies are decent, we haven't ran into any raiders… or Lissandra's people… And there haven't been any giant fuck-off bears walking around, just this storm._

_So all in all? Could've been wors-_

Xander's train of thought ran out of railroad to go on as a cliff's sudden drop forced to it stop. Xander's next step through the storm gave way to a deeper step than expected; nowhere near fatal, but enough to shock and force a trip. When he lifted his face from the snow, Xander beheld grey stone fading to a deeper abyss.

"Guess you found it," Erret called behind him. He was quick to make his way to the cave, but not before helping Xander up, "Get the fires going, I'll set the tent."

With that, Erret let his bag fall to the cave's stone floor. He fished out a couple pieces of prepared dry-wood and rolled them to Xander before continuing to his own task. Xander, for his part, let his own bag rest against the wall. With care, he retrieved his fire starters; not a flint striker, but charged petricite. The stones they brought were a special commodity, at least as far as the campaign had progressed. With Yin they could refill healing stones with blood magic, and whilst they hadn't found use for it Xander could've done the same with his dream magic. The unimaginatively named firestones, however, weren't renewable. Never mind that they had enough fire magic in them to melt the stone on use; without a fire mage on employ, there'd be no restocking for them.

But, when faced with the Freljord's cold it was an easy price to pay.

Minutes later, and their temporary shelter was ready. Erret had struggled to set up the Demacian tent, not used to the different design, but Xander's old experience had come through. Thick blue cloth held up by strong wood and steel pins provided another layer of protection from the storm outside. In front of it was the small campfire Xander had set up, which burned bright like a miniature sun. The two Noxians sat by the fire side by side, backs to the tent's entrance and arms hovering as close to it as possible.

With their nightly abode set up, the Noxians took to dinner: cured meats and bread that were both hard as rocks. The fire proved a secondary feature in being able to heat them up quickly, frozen as they were from the Freljord storm. As good as their food was, however, Erret continued to frown and grumble. After taking a bite from a quickly made sandwich, the saboteur spoke his mind.

"If we came all this way to kill a single guy, I'll be really disappointed."

Xander shrugged, "Sylas is an angry idiot, but I think he'll see reason here."

"Expecting reason from a revolutionary," Erret scoffed, "So, that's how you nearly get us killed this time, eh?"

"It worked out with Rell, didn't it?"

"Rell's... well, it worked there, but if that vision you showed me is anything to go by, Sylas is a different beast entirely. You know it won't be that easy."

Xander shrugged, but could only continue eating in silence. Erret was right there. Sylas and Rell held some similarities; both were powerful mages who were weaponized and abused by powerful authorities, causing them to rebel against them. But, Rell's suffering had come from an almost comically corrupt shadow council who used ignorance to hide their deeds from a people that, at the very least, would be disgusted by. Demacia's very foundations had been built on fear and hatred of mages; stories of the Rune Wars had served as cautionary tales when Xander lived in Demacia, and he doubted that had changed.

_Actually, scratch that. They've definitely changed, because Sylas' vengeance-obsessed ass went too far, and that's a far more relevant story now. Fits the narrative perfectly... thanks a lot for that._

Ultimately, the narrative was the key difference. The average Noxian could see what the Black Rose was doing with Rell and agree it wasn't Noxian, or at least needlessly cruel. From there, even a blunt, abrasive teen like the Iron Maiden could inspire change; and if not that, a brilliant politician like Swain could refine the idea and champion a reform with it.

But the problems in Demacia were much harder to separate from its history. The dichotomy of purging mages and keeping just nobility sacred, however paradoxical, had stood for too long a period. Only a king's word could even hope to start change, and without Xander's contacts, it made sense that Sylas would only see a hard reset as a viable option.

Erret seemed to notice the troubling reflections within Xander's mind; he teased his boss with a question, "So, how do you think we'll get out of this one?"

"Enh, I still think the plan'll work."

Erret sighed, "Well, it wouldn't be a mission you'd take if it wasn't stupidly hard."

"No, it would not. But, it ain't impossible..."

"You sure about that?"

"Well, think of it this way: you hated my guts when we first met, and up until Bilgewater you were hoping to off me whilst no one was looking. And look at us now..."

"I regret every other breath you take," Erret deadpanned with a roll of his eyes.

Xander smiled mischievously, "Half is better than none. I can work with half."

Erret sighed, chuckled, then waved him off, "I mean, you're not wrong. Fuck it, go sleep, I'll take first watch. I expect an answer on whether this is a waste of time or not when you take the next shift."

Xander chuckled as he wrapped what remained of his rations and lied down, "I'll give Nocturne your regards."

If Erret had another snappy comeback, Xander didn't hear it. Years of being a sleep mage helped one go to sleep quickly, and the Freljord cold didn't hinder in any way. Xander felt himself fall into a cold, dark embrace. He channeled his power and flipped mid fall to land on an unseen floor. He stood, clad in his Earthen body, and called into the void of his subconscious.

"Nocturne!"

Nothing answered for a long time, and for a moment Xander considered actually sleeping like a normal person. At that exact moment, his would-be familiar's dagger-like eyes appeared in the dark.

"Your call interrupted my session with the Crownguards," the demon snarled with irritation, "I almost got caught."

Xander squinted, "…How?"

"I heard your call and said your name - Xander, that is," Nocturne elaborated, "They thankfully know not of it. As far as they'll recall, their unrecognizable friend faded into the sunlight mid-conversation."

"And what were you talking about?"

"The worth of tradition compared to friendship."

Xander frowned, _Fuck. That could've been good._

_"_ Ah. My bad... so, uh-"

"I also looked into Sylas. He isn't sleeping yet, so it's only a vague presence. You're close, but that's all I know."

"I see…" Xander grimaced. The situation seemed all very anti-climactic…

"That was all you wished to know, I take it," Nocturne assumed.

"Yes."

"Then perhaps I can interest you with more information?"

Xander raised an eyebrow, "Of what nature?"

"Garen Crownguard was suggestible… your planned topic worked well."

As he knew it would. It was obvious to Xander that Garen held his sister above all else. He had let her go and accepted her as a mage… If Nocturne had played the plan correctly, the conversation they would've had would plant - or rather, further grow - the question of allegiances within Garen's mind. However, Nocturne had dreamt with both Crownguards…

"What of Lux?" the Left Hand asked.

"… less so. I believe she may have been trying to attain lucidity," Xander could imagine Nocturne scowling, even with his relatively featureless face, "It wouldn't have done much, but the fact that she suspects me…"

"Not used to having prey that can fight back AND you're not allowed to kill them?"

"Please don't tempt me from killing you, summoner."

Xander chuckled, and began to walk, "I'll try. Now, I imagine you have something else?"

Nocturne responded with a growl and a channeling of eldritch power. From his palm, the demon projected a vision; a memory. Its contents - a baleful red gaze - wiped the smile off Xander's face.

"When was this?"

"This afternoon. A letter was sent for a meeting."

"Fffuck... how the hell does Xin Zhao even- no, wait, of course he'd know. Why wouldn't he?"

"The stakes rise. She's a major threat.

"Indeed. Tell me everything you've learned."

* * *

Dread gripped Erret's heart as he felt something wet on his face. The fear faded when he put a hand to his face and didn't see red, and after a short breath he was up and attentive.

Outside their shelter the storm still raged. It had gone through his first shift, then through Xander's first awakening, then... a glance to his pocket watch revealed he'd accidentally slept for half an hour.

Troubling, but they hadn't died, so how bad could it be?

_Probably a stray snowflake melting on my face... that makes sense, right?_

From his position watching the cave entrance. Erret looked back to the tent. Xander had one of their bags clutched to his chest as though it were a pillow. Thankfully he wasn't using the bag with the firestones or their weapons; that one lay by Erret's side, far away from any igniters. With serene peace expressed on his face, the childlike image Xander presented was oh so far from what would be expected of the demonic Left Hand of Noxus.

At least, if you ignored his pupils glowing through the eyelids, and the black wisps that occasionally left his head's orifices.

Despite how late it was, Xander had confirmed Sylas wasn't asleep. That meant they couldn't get an exact lead on his location. Add more news - troubling, but Xander wanted more details before spilling - and Xander got to sleep another shift, whilst Erret had to remain conscious in the cold. Or rather, tried to, what with him accidentally falling asleep.

"I swear, you owe me big," Erret muttered, half bitter half amused, "How about... you take Gerris on your next ride out? Or just go solo; he is our best teacher, and we need that garrison up and running... you are the Left Hand of Noxus; surely you can do that without making life suck? Just got a bit?"

Xander didn't reply, still stuck in his dream. He took a deep breath, though, and frowned. Whatever secrets Nocturne had to share, they clearly weren't pleasant.

Another freezing sensation struck Erret's cheek. Given it was the cheek facing the cave's entrance, the saboteur's gaze followed it. Though his hearing was fine enough to know, the vision of the flurry of snow flying about confirmed to Erret that the storm was still going. He frowned.

_I could die here. In this cave. That storm could go quite longer, surely. And if it does… I may never see Yin again…_

Erret swore under his breath as his mind raced, _Where did my Noxian cruelty go? I should've stayed home. Gods know Xander could've made it through here just fine; he has the magic, he has a demon… hell, keeping merged with Nocturne probably would make this trip much quicker than dragging me along. So why even am I here?_

By the tent, Xander shifted in his sleep. He frowned deeper, swore under his breath, then turned his back to their fire. Dark violet smoke seeped from his ears, and the arcane sorcery reminded Erret of who he was dealing with.

_The Left Hand of Noxus. Ironically named for the severed hand of Jericho Swain, for they're both demonic, and… someone has to make sure Xander doesn't follow the demon's example, right?_

An abrupt feeling akin to tripping sprang in Erret's mind. Though he frowned, it relaxed substantially. If that was the answer for why he was here, he wasn't only dissatisfied, but confused. If Xander was abandoning ship, could he have stopped him? Not physically, what with the demon under his command… why not bring the rest of the crew in, then? Surely Lady Elia could've done her business with the Coldstone Company personally, and let them go on their Freljord adventure? A handler and three warriors would be enough to dissuade treachery on Xander's part… right?

_It wouldn't, because he knows we won't stop him._

That thought disturbed Erret, for it heralded deeper confusion. Why wouldn't they stop him, he wondered. The storm outside raged much like his own mind, until…

The words Erret spoke that night when the plan was set in motion returned to him.

_"Someone has to keep you alive; might as well be the guy who's basically had that job grafted to his soul."_

Erret's mind wandered his memories, glimpsing the chains that bonded him to Xander. Ever since that operation in Bilgewater… nay, even earlier, for it was Xander who dragged him out of their duel with Draven. Bilgewater saw the start of a business relationship. Whether it was Xander being his manipulative self to get Gerris to keep pairing them or simply an observation of their synergy as a duo, it slowly became expected for them to pair up. By the end of their service in Bilgewater, they'd found themselves back to back, knee deep in the corpses of their foes enough times to use a full hand's fingers. By Shurima one couldn't count the situations with hands and feet, and by the time Yin joined the party Xander might as well have been his brother.

_How ridiculous everything's become..._

It didn't seem so long ago that Erret had just been some runaway making a living off weaklings' purses on the streets of Noxus Prime. It was only relatively recently that the legendary reckoner Gerris the Ironhead saw his brutality, agility, and quick thinking and thought to make a warrior of him. He'd taken the man up on his offer fully expecting to have to wait a long time to have his hunger sated; decades, perhaps. Granted, it would've been a wait shorter than most, given his apparent prodigious nature. But he never could've expected what was to come.

Direct service to Noxus' highest authorities, the fruits expected of such labor, genuine respect rather than the hollow adoration of crowds (that which Gerris had warned him against)... and romance? In the rare times he seriously considered his options, the most he'd hoped for was a worthy rival, so to ensure that whoever was born would be as strong as him, if not more so. Of course, that assumed he didn't scoff at the notion. His parents were deadbeats, or so Xander described them when they'd discussed their past. Most of his life was spent alone in the streets, and even if he hadn't, he'd been born Noxian. Yet, perhaps through Xander's aid, he'd not only scored far above his league, but found genuine affection, genuine care...

No, not perhaps. Xander had often told him that he would've always reached high in Noxian society. He was just the catalyst, the Left Hand would say. But, Erret knew that was an exaggeration of humility. Who else in Noxus would've taught him of genuine selflessness? What genuine romance looked like? Gods knew neither he or Yin would've logged their affections as romantic attraction if not for Xander's (in hindsight poor) matchmaking attempts. The Demacian nature that damn near everyone who knew Xander teased him for… it had done so much for him, hadn't it?

_Perhaps it's I who owe you, and this is why I'm here; paying off the debt,_ Erret chuckled at the thought, _Should've known I'd get in debt with you, Demacian. Oh wait, I did know! I saw this coming from a mile away, and yet I didn't bother getting out of the way._

_And… if I had the chance to go back, I doubt I would._

Erret closed his eyes and sighed, letting his head rest against the cave wall. His reflections warmed his heart, and for a brief moment, he was content. That changed with another cold feeling on his face, prompting another cursory glance at the cave's entrance. Erret's eyes widened.

The storm had passed.

So where had the snowflake come fr-

Another wet tap struck Erret's face. Heavier, wetter, and on the other cheek. Erret looked not to a side, but up, and felt fear grasp his heart again.

The ceiling of their cave wasn't stone. Instead, a shelf of ice provided a roof against the storm. With the gales calming, Erret could say it had done its job well. The downside, however, was that it was now melting quickly. The ice directly over the fireplace was particularly moist, and the falling drops made the charred embers hiss. How long the wall had been dripping was a mystery to Erret, but he wouldn't have been surprised if it had started when they first ignited the fireplacez Erret was no expert, but he wasn't in a gambling mood; to say they'd been at risk for the past few hours was a downplay at best, and he was amending that mistake soon.

Immediately, the saboteur was on Xander. A forceful tap on the shoulder caused no reaction; the dream mage seemed particularly deep in his slumber. He remained unresponsive to Erret as tapping turned to rough shaking and worried mutters turned to panicked outbursts.

"Damn it, Xander, wake up... we've got a huge fucking problem!" Erret's voice rose as he glanced to the walls, trying to discern how much time they had, "Come on, I know you can hear me... Wake up!"

He didn't, so Erret slapped him across the face. Though it left a red mark, Xander remained a sleep. He scrunched his nose on distaste, however, and a grunt left his mouth.

_Fuck it... we'll have to leave the stuff._

Deciding that Xander wasn't about to wake soon, Erret grabbed him by the arm pits and started pulling him towards the cave's entrance. Three heavy drops of water fell on Erret in quick succession, leaving stains where they fell. A stream slowly fell down a cave face as Erret repositioned to maneuver himself and Xander around their still smoldering fireplace. The saboteur pulled harder as a fresh breeze from outside chilled his back.

A fourth drop struck Xander's forehead, and after a blink, the Left Hand awoke.

He quickly scrambled out of Erret's grasp, but not before tripping and falling on his ass again, "I'm up, I'm up!... gah, did you slap me?"

"You weren't waking up, and sorry for not noticing my earlier, but our roof might fall on us," Erret quickly replied, "It's ice; it's melting, at least since you started the fire; you weren't up, so dragging our shit wasn't an option."

Another drop fell on Xander's face, prompting him to look up. The melting seemed to slow, but it wasn't as though Xander was an ice mage... was he?

"Well, I'm up..." Xander stood and turned back to the camp, "We should be fine, let's just calm down and get our shit."

"No, wait, Xander-"

"Sylas is close; might as well have something to give him, try bribe him to our cause," Xander disappeared into the tent briefly and came back out a few seconds later with both bags strapped on one arm, whilst their sleeping bags were rolled around his neck awkwardly, "Probably will have to ditch the tent, bu-"

A crack interrupted the Left Hand's monologue, and a shard of ice fell in front of him. Erret swore as the cave shook and snow fell in, but could do little but fall and try dodge the falling debris. As the dust cleared, Erret scrambled to stand and rushed back to where he last saw Xander.

The Left Hand lived, but had fallen on his butt again, half buried in the bags he'd hauled. He also was on the opposite side of an ice wall, his visage broken and refracted with the frozen surface's cracks. Erret leaned on the wall and knocked for his leader's attention.

"Oh, by the gods... Xander, are you-" the saboteur's concern faded to irritation as he saw Xander laugh behind the wall, "Now's not the time! What are you even laughing about?"

Xander ceased his laughter, but turned his head in confusion. Through the ice, Erret saw Xander's mouth move, but the sounds he heard were soft, muffled, and overtaken by the shuffles of snow still settling after the cave's collapse. Erret sighed.

"Brilliant, so you're stuck. One step forward, three steps back," Erret grimaced as he looked to the ice wall, "Hold steady, I'll try break you out."

A few lose shards were clear to be pulled, but nothing would to completely free Xander. He kicked at the wall to little effect, tackled it shoulder first to less effect, then sighed.

"Not sure I can do much... not even communication, huh?" Erret leaned on the wall, "Anything you can do on your end?"

Xander tilted his head again, then pointed to him, then made a motion of walking, then pointed again. Then he pointed to himself, and caused his hand to glow with magic.

Erret squinted, "Huh?"

Xander rolled his eyes and dug into the bag at his left side. Even through the ice and darkness, the rune of a firestone was visible. Given that it had been the Firestone's concentrated magic to melt through the ice originally, it was both ironic and viable for its use to free Xander.

_And terribly in line with his terrible habits. One of these days he's going to make a mistake that he can't reverse. Here's hoping he can survive it then, but for now I guess…_

Erret squinted, pondered how to refine his question, then yelled it into the ice wall, "Can you do this safely?!"

Xander took a moment to make sure he was hearing well, then took another to think. Mental processes clearly weren't enough, however; he took out the firestone with one hand and channeled magic in the other. The hands didn't meet, however. From his expression it seemed Xander didn't think he had the control needed to make a fire safe enough to melt through. The Left Hand raised a single finger then disappeared deeper in to the cave. Or rather, he became slightly less visible; it turned out there wasn't much cave to go. When Xander returned to the ice wall, he had a clear frown; it seemed firestones weren't much of an option.

Erret sighted in frustration, and no small amount of fear, "I'll… I'll figure something out. There's gotta be something I can use, right?"

Xander glanced to Erret for a moment in what looked like shock, then chuckled mirthfully. A hand came to cover Xander's face as the Left Hand found yet another reason to find amusement. For a brief moment, Erret felt his temper rise again; it was hardly the appropriate time. But, he couldn't help himself, and let a chortle out.

"Fine, laugh it up… the hell's your problem…" Erret shook his head, "Alright, I don't know how much air you have in there, but cool it. I'll sort something out, just sit tight… wait, what are you pointing at?"

Xander's chuckles faded as he stood from his position and leaned against his side of the ice wall. His eyes started to glow with magical light as he ceased his pointing. Instead, the Left Hand started waving. But at who? Erret noted Xander's eyes were looking over, and made to look their way. He couldn't help but gape at the tall, muscular, unshackled hooded figure who stood before him.

"I can't say I know who you two are, but any mage has an ally in me."

"Y-yeah, well…" Erret cleared his throat, "Do you have any magic that could break through an ice wall?"

"Breaking a wall you say," Sylas of Dregbourne smiled as his eyes glowed a frosty blue, "I may have that power available to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait. I got a holiday for Chinese New Year, and considering that meant a rare week of being at home all day I decided to indulge in my other hobbies. Didn't get much to show for it; I'm still hardstuck silver. Guess I should've stuck to writing.
> 
> But enough about that. This chapter was a bit tricky to write. I was trying to bring back the trend of the opening flashback from the first few chapters, but not doing it for a while made re-formating inevitable. My original plan for the chapter didn't flow too well with the starting flashback; both in terms of placement and themes. So, I had to make changes, which delayed the chapter further. But alas, here I am.
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed my writing thus far. Please leave a comment; I appreciate any feedback I get for the fic, as it can help me improve or show where I'm succeeding. See you next chapter.


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